Taken, Not Borrowed
by morethanjustausername
Summary: I sold my soul for this... this chance. Instead I got a car crash victim, a lawsuit and the best lawyer in the universe. The devil promised me fame, but how is a blue-haired teenager going to help me get it? It's all part of the deal...right? No pairings. Multiple POV's. Teeny tiny bit AU if you use a proton microscope. Featuring Randy the Rapist! CHAPTER 15 UP! :D
1. High flying Cetapod!

**Hi! **

**Things You should know about this fanfic:**

**It is my first,**

**No flames,**

**The timeline may be different, and I have changed the ages,**

**This story is AUish.**

**Also, check out my DA account for a picture I drew for the story!**

**Enjoy!**

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Stuart Tusspot, a tall boy with striking blue hair and wide hazel eyes stared at the assortment of keyboards displayed in the storefront window. He gazed upward and silently read the black and maroon coloured sign, complete with a model organ and a small light to illuminate the text when night came.

'Uncle Nate's Organ Emporium..' he mouthed, as his gaze fell back to the display.

A sign hung in the window telling any readers about the keyboard sale inside. Stuart could see guitars, drum sets and microphones not to mention organs, but what caught his eye was not any of the store's finest models, but a small electric keyboard. It was black with purple accents, and seemed to feature buttons and keys to simulate the sounds of drums and horns and train whistle, not to mention change the sound of the notes being played.

His mother, who was a curvy woman with shoulder length brown hair and soft brown eyes, stopped walking when she felt her son's hand slip out of her own. The two of them had walked from the carnival where her husband worked, and decided to go window shopping. His father David Tusspot had just received a bonus, so the couple had agreed to purchase a present for their son, if he found something he liked.

She turned around to find her son staring into a music shop. She watched him gaze at something, occasionally squinting as if to get a better look. She raised an eyebrow and went to him, her heels click-clacking on the cement sidewalk. She stood next to him and bent her knees to get to his height, which was tall for a fifteen year old. She peered into the store, trying to locate the item he seemed so fixated on.

"Stu?" she asked, curiosity swirling in her hazel eyes.

He didn't seem to notice her inquiry, which was not rare. Ever since the accident he seemed to space out whenever something caught his interest, or even when he was bored. The incident also gave him migraines that ended in him passing out from the pain. Luckly, as Rachel was a nurse, she could supply him with a plethora of medications to ease the pain. One of the downsides to these pills was that they caused restlessness in poor Stu-Pot, but that bit could be fixed with more pills.

A vicious cycle really.

She gazed at his unruly azure hair and sighed. She could remember the date, and even the time of that particular event, as it affected her whole family, especially her son. It also gave her the fright of her life.

* * *

_~ "Ey Mom!" a young Stu shouted, his wavy dark brown hair shining in the midday sunlight. Rachel, being a few years younger and a few pounds lighter looked over at her son. He smiled, revealing a broken smile, as his front teeth had fallen out the week before._

_"What is it honey?" She questioned lovingly._

_"Can ah climb te' tree in te' back yard?"_

_Rachel, who was sitting in a lawn chair on the porch looked at her son. The seven-year old looked back at her expectantly. His smiling mother nodded cheerfully and waved him off. She could hear his rushed footfalls as he ran to the yard, ready to climb the tall, old oak tree. _

_Their tree was unlike most others, as it never had any leaves and the rippled trunk was textured like an old stepladder, making it the perfect climbing tree, and the lack of leaves gave anyone in said tree a perfect place to hang out with friends, or make a treehouse. _

_Rachel blissfully leaned back in her chair and let the sun wash over her face._

_Little Stu scrambled up the trunk, and hooked his long fingers onto a branch. Lifting his feet up off the ground, he swung onto the branch. With a bit of difficulty, he managed to grab onto a higher branch and pull himself up. Stu grinned at his achievement and climbed higher in the tree, admiring the view as he climbed. The soft breeze teased his hair and left delicate chills down his spine._

_The grinning boy gazed at the clouds opposite the street, trying to make characters out of their shapes. Being at the top of the tree gave him a good view of the second story of the house his family lived in, and the sky in all its infinite glory. Being a seven-year old, he did not see it in such a poetic way, but admired its beauty never-the-less._

_From the street, a little boy fought with his kite. It was moving erratically in the seemingly soft wind, and dropping altitude. The kite was in the shape of a little whale, and almost seemed to swim away from its owner._

_Stuart didn't like whales much, not after that one at Seaworld had tried to eat him..._

_The Tusspot boy looked at the clouds, and picked out one that resembled a dragon, and one he was positive was a bird. He smiled lazily at the sky. "Wot a nice day..." he whispered, as if not to disturb the peaceful aura the afternoon seemed to hold._

_Meanwhile, on the street parallel his house, the little boy's kite drifted into the Tusspot property, just higher than the tree Stuart was in._

_The kite silently floated down towards Stu, as if drawn by a magnet of sorts. Stu however was too busy thinking about the cloud bird and dragon, and finding more fun clouds to notice the whale kite drifting a few feet away from him...~_

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**A/N:**

**Here's the deal. I allready have the second chapter/continuation of flashback written out, so I require at least 5 whole reviews to tell me if I should continue.**

**Also, this is my first fanfiction, so no flames please!**

**Pease, Love, Puppies and reviews!**


	2. A Whale of a time?

**Ohai! Thank you for the reviews!**

**As promised, here is the next chapter!**

**Also, I am collaborating with ThingsToDoAtWallmart in a few chapters, so keep reading if ya know whats good for ya!**

**Taa~**

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Recap of last chapter:

_~ The kite floated down slowly towards Stu, as if drawn by a magnet of sorts. Stu however, was too busy thinking about the cloud bird and dragon to notice the whale kite drifting a few feet away from him.~_

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_"Excuse me! Excuse me!" the little boy called, trying to get Stu's attention, and catching it only on the second try. _

_The youngest Tusspot's mind was snapped out of his daydreams, and the clouds even forgotten as he whirled around to find a whale right behind him. His panicked mind failed to notice that it was only a kite_

_The wind laughed as it picked up and pushed the kite towards the startled boy, who made a motion to scoot back on the tree branch._

_Only, there was no more branch to scoot back on._

_If Stuart had a calmer state of mind, he might have noticed that branches only got thinner as he climbed, or even rationalized that scooting back on a tree was not safe. _

_"AAAHHHHHHHHH!" Stuart screamed as he felt himself falling out of the tree._

_Head first._

_His heart pumped faster as he made wild grabs at branches, but only succeeded in taking them out with his falling body. He felt every branch break and every twig snap as they dug into his skin and ripped his clothes. He opened his mouth to scream again, but was cut off when his body hit the ground._

_Head first._

_Stuart lie on the ground unable to move, listening to his uneven, raspy breathing. Terrified, he tried to get up or shout out, but any motion caused him extreme pain, especially in his skull. He was terrified!_

_Black dots snaked into the corners of his vision, and his heart beat faster, more erratically._

_Now he hated whales. The rotters._

* * *

_Rachel snapped out of her warm daze when she heard her child's shriek._

_"STUART!" she shouted, and leapt out of her lawn chair, knocking it over in the process. She darted around the side of the house like a bat out of hell, and ran to the yard._

_What she saw there horrified her._

_Her only son was lying at the the base of the oak tree, branches scattered around him, some stained with a substance that Rachel refused to identify. His body unmoving and silent._

_He looked so pale!_

_Her eyes widened at the horrible sight, and she rushed to his side. The terrified mother failed to notice the kite being tugged back to its owner, or the fleeing footsteps of said owner._

_She kneeled beside her son, and took in the horrid sight of his battered and bruised body._

_"S-Stu?"_

_Her pounding heart did a flip when he forced open his eyes to look at her._

_"Ma-" his words were cut off with a coughing fit. Blood seeped out of his mouth, wich did not go unnoticed by his frantic mother._

_"What happened here?" she asked, more to herself than her injured son._

_"T-te' w-whale..." he managed to stutter, before passing out._

_"Stuart? Can you hear me? Stuart!" she screamed, and picked up her unmoving son._

_She ran to the car and strapped her son in, not bothering with herself, and zoomed off to the hospital. Her panic ridden eyes did happen to notice the tears leaking out of her injured son's own. She sped down the narrow streets of Crawley, dodging the odd car. She got the occasional dirty gesture or angry comment but ignored them._

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_The doctors treated her son as an emergency, and got to work quickly. Cutting off the tattered remains of his shirt, disinfecting wounds, and bandaging the unconscious boy's head. He was promptly hooked up to machines to monitor his heart rate, and an intervenes system ment to stabilize the boy._

_Rachel cried to hear than her son would recover, as he only suffered from a concussion, harsh as it was. The hazel-eyed woman called her husband at work to tell him the terrible news. and he sped to the hospital as quick as his car would allow._

* * *

_About a week after the accident, Rachel noticed her son seemed to be covering up something. namely his hair. After bringing this up with the boy, Rachel and Dave Tusspot were shocked to see he had been covering up his now blue roots. A rushed trip to the doctor had revealed that the boy's eumelanin and pheomelanin levels were off, and had caused the color change. He was also advised to take it easy at school._

_It was soon after that the passing out, severe migraines, and spacing out became an everyday factor in the boy's life._

_It's also when young Stuart Tusspot got his first keyboard.~_

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Rachel smiled grimly at the memory, and turned to her son, whose gaze had shifted to a microphone.

"Stuart," she said, and his gaze snapped back to hers.

"See anything you like son?" she gently inquired.

"Not a' te' moment. Can we come ba' tomorro' ? I'd like to look around.." he smiled sheepishly "Tha' is if you don' mind..."

"Of corse hun." she said, amused at her son's accent. She had always wondered why it was so different from her's or her husband's.

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**Now you know why Stu hates whales, and the medical reason his hair is blue. Look up the medical terms if you dont believe me!** Alright!** 2nd chapter is officially complete! this is not a two shot, not by any means. please review, and i need 5 more reviews to continue, so look forward to my upcoming collab! I am in the process of writing chapter 3, but will only post if you comment! Also, tell me about any ideas you might have. NO OC's! I hate it when people try to modify the real characters to please themselves, or try to put themselves in the story as an OC. **

**-morethanjustausername**


	3. Let it be?

**Hi! this is chapter 3, and i can't seem to get ahold of ThingsToDoAtWallmart, so i'm not sure if the collab is still on.**

**This chapter also introduces another character, although he is only a flat character. He might appear once or twice later on. As always, If you read, please please please review! I mean really, you might as well! Come on guys...**

**Next chapter: D-day (Or what I understand that is from a Gorillaz fan perspective...)**

**Check my devientart for the flashback picture! It's awesome!**

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BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! _"Hello this is Ron Jathers with Wake Up London! Today the forecast is beautiful with the sky a go-" _The unreasonably cheery newscasters rant was cut off with a slender hand hitting the alarm clock. Following the slender hand came a lanky arm, which leaded to no other than Stuart Tusspot. The teenager mumbled a few incoherent obscenities at the time, the newscaster, or maybe even the clock itself.

The teenager peeked his head out from under his soft, blue blankets and sat up. The night had been peaceful and dreamless, leaving Stu-Pot refreshed and awake. Apparently his body did not feel the effects of the good night. The youth swung his legs around the bead and stood up, wobbling a bit as he did so. The teen walked over to his closet and began to rummage thru his clothes.

"Nope...Nope...Nope...*sniff sniff* No, definite nope.." he mumbled as he sorted through his shirts.

" 'Ow 'bout tha' one?" he said, picking up a grey short sleeve top with a long, white undershirt.

Smiling, he started to pull the undershirt on, but his head got stuck in the collar. Azure hair poked out of the white undershirt, and Stu-Pot tugged on the collar.

"Ugh! Get off you stupid shirt! Mmmph!" he yelled, giving his shirt a final tug.

The shirt finally gave and Stu-Pot's head popped out , his hair even messier than usual. The teen pulled his tee shirt on more carefully, and was not faced with any more problems.

"Tha's more like it.." he mumbled. The teen bent down and started picking through his jeans. The pair he picked out were light skinny jeans with rips on the knees. He pulled them on and rolled up the cuffs. Turning to the mirror on the opposite side of his room, he parted his azure hair to the side.

Stuart walked over to his closet and opened the doors. He scanned his closet. His navy-blue and white school uniform hung on the inside hook, recently having been ironed by his mother. It was Saturday, and Stuart was relieved to not have school. On the bottom of the closet was a wooden box, and that particular box held socks. He reached into the box and pulled out a pair of grey and white socks.

The teen lifted up a foot, and put the sock over his toes. The sock followed the undershirts lead and caught on Stuart's toe. The annoyed teen hopped on one foot, pulling at his sock.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" THUMP!

In the midst of hopping around, Stu tripped over a discarded pair of converse, and crashed to the ground. The teen blinked at his foot in confusion, not really registering what had just happened. Giving up on the matter, Stu took this time to (safely) pull on his socks.

-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-

Stuart's mom appeared at his door, out of breath. Her round cheeks were flushed, and her eyes wide. Stuart couldn't remember the last time he had seen his mom out of breath. He suppressed a giggle.

"Stuart honey, are you okay?!" she wheezed.

"A-Ahm fine mum, jus' tripped is all.." he stammered, his cheeks burning.

Rachel smiled at him, and remembered what she had meant to ask him.

"When do you want to go to the music shop, son?" she asked.

Furrowing his thick brows, he thought for a moment.

"Ah was 'finkin of goin' this evening, why?" he asked.

Rachel twisted a lock of hair around her finger. "I was called into work today, they really need me at the hospital.." she replied sadly, not meeting his gaze.

Stuart picked himself up off the floor. "I can go by myself you know, I'm fifteen!" he exclaimed.

Rachel looked troubled. "Fine fine.. Just be careful.."

"Okay mum!" the son said, and hugged his mother.

"Breakfast is on the table!" she shouted as the teenager ran down the stairs. Rachel shook her head and sighed. She looked around Stu's messy room and put her hands on her hips. Going into the hall, she retrieved a laundry basket, a spray bottle, and a rag. With a glint in her eye, she approached the first pile of crap...

* * *

_That evening~_

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"Kay mum I'm going now!" Stuart shouted as he walked out the door, and into the street.

His mother yelled something in response, and Stuart headed out. His youthful face lit up as he passed one of the alleyways he had spray painted. He looked down at the sidewalk, avoiding the cracks in the pavement.

Stuart got the feeling that you only get when you know something big is about to happen, but you dont know what. He quickly shoved it to the back of his mind.

"Me mum's paranoia mus' be rubbin' off on me..." he mumbled.

The teen's mood switched back to happy as he thought of the shop. He was excited to have seen all the keyboards and microphones, organs and drum sets. Never had he seen such variety! He quickened his pace, his long legs taking wide strides towards the shop.

The shop bobbed into sight, and Stuarts face lit up. The weird feeling returned, but he once again ignored it. Arriving at the shop, he gazed into the window. It was the last day of the keyboard sale, and he was eager to find something. His old keyboard was starting to act up, and Stuart needed it to distract his mind.

The entryway to the store was flanked by two potted plants and a park bench, giving the store a cheery vibe wich conflicted with the weird feeling Stu had. The teenager faced the door and reached for the brass knob. He turned it, and stepped inside the store.

The floor was a hard oak with a glossy finish. Scratches and dings were clearly visible, probably from the constant moving around of interments. The mauve walls had a dark sienna trim, and a few records hanging on hooks. There was a large window, which happened to be the one that Stu peered into the day before. Beside the window were shelves of lesson books and catalogues.

"Hello there!" a voice boomed.

Stuart jumped, and found himself face-to-chin(s) with a large man. Glancing at his name tag, Stu deduced that this was Uncle Norm of 'Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium'.

Uncle Norm was a beefy man with a few wisps of sandy-gray hair, and a jiggling double-chin. He seemed to be a man of smiles, and had small spectacles perched on his nose. Stuart guessed that he was in his mid fifties.

The big man heaved his paw on Stuart's thin shoulder, shaking the boy's frame. Stuart took a shuddering breath and looked at the man. His eyes twinkled and he smiled, revealing his pearly whites. Stuart personally thought the man had too many teeth.

"I am Uncle Norm, what can I do for you this fine day, my boy?" he asked with gusto.

"I saw tha' you have a keyboard sale going on.. I jus' came to loo' around.."

Those seemed to be the right words, because Norm's eyes lit up like a christmas tree.

"So you play the keyboard? Not enough young people these days play interments. They all have these new 'Nin-ten-does' and 'Poke-e-mons'... I just have no idea what to do with the darn things!"

By now Norm had guided our Stu-pot over to a keyboard display. He finished his mini-rant and gestured at the keyboard. Stuart looked at him with a confused expression.

"Won't you play me a tune laddy?"

Stuart nodded and shuffled over to the keyboard. The man was being very friendly, and Stu felt he owed it to the man. He took a quick glance at the man, trying to figure out what to play.

'Well.. 'e look's li' a Beatles kinda' guy to me.' Stu thought. 'Now wha's me favorite Beatles song now...?'

Smiling, Stuart began the opening notes. He stole a peek at Norm, and saw his face morph into recognition.

_"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me.._  
_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be._  
_And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me..._  
_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be._  
_Let it be, let it be, let it be! let it be._  
_Whisper words of wisdom, let it be..."_

Stuart played a few ending notes, and Norm clapped his meaty paws together in swift repetition. Stuart wondered how such a large man could move so quickly.

"You just got yourself 25% off!" Norm exclaimed, and he looked like he was close to breaking down and hugging the boy.

Stuart took a bow, and he and Norm started to walk across the store. A little bell jingled at the door, and Uncle Norm stopped.

"Would you please wait one minute my boy?" Norm asked as he spied another customer entering the shop.

Stuart nodded and turned to the window. It was truly a beautiful day out. As he turned away from the window, screeching tires followed by a loud crash screamed out through the shop.

Time seemed to move slowly, as Stuart Tusspot turned toward the window.

There, in a mauve Vauxhall Astra, was Murdoc Niccals.

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**Cliffhanger anybody? Heh heh..**

**If you read this and want more, you seriously have to review! To unlock chapter 4, I need 5 more reviews. That means my review count has to be at 15!**

**I am planning on re-writing the entire history of the Gorillaz, so stay tuned!**

**-morethanjustausername**


	4. Pretty-boy!

**Heyy! Wowsers! I got the reviews sooo fast! I'm so excited for this chapter.**

**Bad news though.. I can't get ahold of ThingsToDoAtWallmart, so maybe no collab.. sorry.**

**In reply to Peanut Butter's review(s):**

**I am planning on doing the entire Gorillaz history, and there will be multiple POV's. I'm not sure what the pairings will be, as I have never actually written romance before, or even thought about it! I like to have 5 reviews per chapter because it assures me that my story still holds your interest.**** It feels so good to have people rave about your story, and I need critique. Your other questions will be answered in this chapter hopefully!**

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CRASH!

Stuart Tusspot spun around to face the noise. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, and Stuart's eyes widened. There, right in front of him, was a Vauxhall Astra crashing thru the window. Shrapnel fell everywhere, from both the window, and the peice-of-shit Astra. In that moment itself, Stuart swore he could see a bit of one of the potted plants from outside among the wreckage.

The Astra was like a predator, ready and poised to pounce on Stu, the helpless victim. He briefly met the gaze of the greasy man behind the wheel. In Stuart's personal opinion, he looked like a demon whose motivation had no rhyme or reason, if that makes sense.

Those were the last thoughts that passed through our Stuart's head before the Vauxhall Astra drove into it.

In the one unbearable moment of pain that is only experienced when a car tries to drive thru your head (and a demon at the wheel to boot), Stuart let out a powerful scream that shook everyone in the store. Uncle Norm, the customers' he was helping, even the demon in the driver's seat. The sound was one of pure agony and pain, haunting even. The scream died down, and there was no sound other than the soft tinkling of glass falling from the damaged window frame.

Blue mixed with red, and Stuart blacked out.

The passenger and back doors of the Astra were shoved open and a few men stumbled out. The one it the passenger seat was tall and fat, with greasy blond hair, the second had a unibrow and a badly styled goatee. The third and last man out's features were obscured with a black Ozzy hoodie. Everybody in the shop fortunate enough to not have been hit by a car watched as the men jumped over the destroyed window frame and scurried away.

"Yer on ya own now, Murdoc!" one of them shouted.

Only the driver remained, his greasy black hair covered his eyes, and his greenish skin seemed to pale. He had committed many crimes before this. Shoplifting, public drunkenness, even indecent exposure. But today was different. He had just... killed someone?

Oh the irony. Today was supposed to be the start of his new beginning! He would start a band and become famous! His plans could only be extinguished if he was arrested. He wrenched open his door and walked around the van. He was sure he had seen some kid's face hit the bumper and go under, and heard the scream that still rang in his ears. But what of that flash of blue? He knew he had been drinking, but surely that could not explain the color!

'Maybe she was holding somin' blue?' the greasy man reasoned.

Stumbling in front of the crumpled Astra, his breath hitched when he saw the mangled body of a teenager lying on the ground, making pitiful attempts to breathe. A red liquid leaked out of her left eyeball. In his still drunken state, Murdoc mumbled something to himself about the teen being flat chested.

The man bent down next to the teenager, examining 'her' face. Blood trailed out of 'her' mouth. It was at this time that Murdoc finally clued into two things: This 'girl' was actually a boy, and his hair was blue! Murdoc's eyes widened in realization. He felt a bit embarrassed to have thought this kid was a chick. Fingering his inverted cross necklace, he looked at the odd hair of this kid.

It must be understood that drunk satanists think a bit differently than most others. They do, infact have a soul, but the may be heatless or brash.

Murdoc reached out to touch the now bloody hair, and twirled it in his finger. The kid's hair had no roots, and his hair was soft, so Murdoc reasoned it may be natural. He started laughing. He was drunk, just failed a ramraid in a music shop, ran over a kid, and now was playing with the same kid's blue hair!

The frightened custemers in the shop had long sinced fled the scene, and undoubtedly called the police. Murdoc's life was over, and he was laughing.

The kid's eyes flickered open for a moment, and stared straight at Murdoc. Murdoc stared back in confusion and horror. His left eye was compleatly black! How was that even possible? The kid's eyes flickered closed again, and Murdoc still stared at him.

There he was. Murdoc Niccals had dropped to his knees, staring and laughing at the barley-alive body of a teenager he ran over. Even when the police sirens were heard he did not move. He hardly blinked. How old was this kid? Fourteen? Fifteen even? Murdoc himself was only twenty-six, and had a criminal record that deserved its own filing cabnet. He stopped laughing and poked the kid's eyelid, which caused more liquid to seep from it.

Even as the cops were pulling up he stared at the kid. Why did he have to get in the way? The ram-raid would have got off without a hitch if the bloody git haden't have gotten in the way!

Murdoc was pulled into a police car and read his rights.

'What now?' he thought.

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**There! chapter 4! Happy now? More to come! And i have been asked a few times if i'm doing a yaoi thing. I am 13, and even though i like the genre itself, i am in no position to write it. That is one of the things that the collab was suppost to help with. I have not decided agenst romance altogether, so keep your hopes up! Do you like everybody's new ages? I am planning on making the length of times in each phase shorter, so each Gorilla only ages one year altogether. Review count needs to be at 25 this time! Are you up to the challange?**

**-morethanjustausername**

**P.S. Check out my DA account: Yamsrock**

**P.P.S I will be posting a late halloween fic any time now, so stay posted!**


	5. A new Filing Cabnet?

**Okay first things first, **

**My mom managed to review my story, while on my account (somehow)! So that wasn't me. *Embaressed***

**THANK YOU LITTLE PUMPKIN! I laughed my arse off at your comment, and I believe you, but even if that was made up, I sure needed it! I am so happy to have you and Peanut Butter as reviewers and readers, keep up the good work! I switched POV's this chapter, just for fun, I hope you guys like it!**

* * *

I was sitting on the hard plastic seats or the car, being read my rights by some stupid cop! Who are thy to talk about rights? A bunch of bloody wankers, that's who. This one though, it just took nearly everything I had not to punch him right in the bloody gob.

At this point I didn't even care what the git had to say, I just could not get that kid out of my head. Did I kill him? He seemed to be breathing just fine when I was grabbed by that stupid cop. This weird feeling I was having.. was it guilt? No, it couldn't be. Murdoc Niccals didn't feel guilt! It was a useless emotion, and should only be squashed down and ignored.

I turned to the back window of the car and peered out. There was an ambulance idling next to the destroyed shop, and some men (who I could only assume were paramedics) had started lifting the kid's body onto a stretcher. They were doing all sorts of medical what-not, so it was safe to assume that I wasn't going to jail for murder.

Everybody should take this time now to give a cheer for your Uncle Mudsy, and then get him another rum!

The paramedics were now yelling to each other, all frantic-like. One of them was attaching some sort of mask to the kid's face, and another just injected him with something. I could not help watching, almost envying the stupid kid.

Here I was, being yelled at by some stupid, onion-breathed cop, while the blue-haired git was being worried over and sent away in a comfy, padded ambulance. The plastic seats of a cop car didn't hold a candle to the soft ones of an ambulance. Maybe that was just the alcohol talking.

Even when they loaded the stretcher onto the ambulance, and it sped away, I was still staring at the spot where it was. I groaned. How long was I going to go to jail this time? The only thing I could think of to do was groan, so I did.

That stupid kid was going to ruin my life! Why was he just staring at me like a dullard, why didn't he try to move, and why was his bloody hair blue!?

I groaned again, which seemed to becoming a habit for me. The cop took a pause in his rant and glared at me.

"Izzer a problem ociffer?" I slurred in an attempt at sarcasm, though I'm not sure it came out right.

His eyebrows creased. "You disgust me." he spat, and slammed my door.

'Never heard that one before' I thought sarcastically. The cop ducked into his seat, and closed his door.

The drive to the station was pretty uneventful, as the height of the action was when I shifted to scratch my arse. Let me assure you that the cop made a point to glare at me for that. The handcuffs bit into my wrists, but not only was I used to it, I also had to focus on staving off a killer hangover. My life was just peaches and cream yeah?

The car stopped in front of the station.. well more like skidded to a halt. The cop seemed to be extra ticked off now. What did I do now? I mean, I may have sung Bohemian Rhapsody a little loud.. did I forget to mention that? Ah well..

Being at the station was not new for me, being that almost all the officers knew me by name or face. The white-washed paneling was dirty. You'd think that they would have cleaned the place up for me, being as I was a returning customer.

That kid's broken face popped into my mind again. His blue hair, leaking eye... and his scream. That scream is something I have no problem admitting to being shocked by. It was loud, so the kid must have powerful vocal chords. It also seemed musical, or melodic. I was really thrown off by this, I mean, he must have a strong voice to have made such a sound. I can admit to being impressed.

'I bet he can sing...' I thought.

My wonderings were interrupted by the officer opening my door and shoving me out. I took this moment to flip him off and read his name tag. Officer Checnotskimarkoik.. or something like that. What? Why don't you try to pronounce it? That's what I thought. Any way, he was not to impressed to have been flipped off, so he was so kind as to slam me against the hood of his car. Jerk. Who does that? I can tell you, Officer Chec-o-somthing-or-other. That's who.

After peeling me off the hood, he started half-dragging me to the station. Going up the stairs was interesting and involved a lot of colorful language, which wouldn't have been necessary if Officer Chec-o hadn't been such a pain in the arse! He shoved me into the doors, which, luckily, opened from the outside.

I could smell the cheap tobacco in the air.

'Ah..' I thought 'The smell of swine.'

As if on cue, a burly man with sandy blond hair glanced up from the chief's desk, and met my gaze. He also looked extra ticked off, and somewhat malicious. I glanced ot the desk he had been at and read the nameplate. wouldn't you believe my luck, this fine gentleman's name was Norman Spach. Norman is in Norm.. Norm as in Uncle Norm. I had done a bit of research on the shop before I ram-raided it, and the website had the owner's name and picture, along with a list of hobbies. If I had read that particular list, I would have known he was also the head honcho here at the station.

My eyebrows shot up into my hairline. He must have been at the crash! Do you remember how I was saying I was a regular at this particular station? Well, a few months ago the old police chief went into early retirement, and I may have been the cause of it. I'd bet you kiddies want to hear that story, yeah? Let's just say a 'anonymous sender' may have set a few thousand termites loose in his office. Heh heh...

The chief squinted at me, and met eyes with officer Chec-o. All at once, both pigs- I mean officers - started walking me to an interrogation room marked 'B'. When I sat down in the plastic chair, Norm said one thing that made me fear fo my safety

"Do you have next of kin?"

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**Cliffy! Don't you just love drunk murdoc? How did you guys like this POV? Should I continue to write like this, or the other way. I have been addicted to the song Numa Numa by O-zone, the english version. I love his accent! How do you like the twist? I told you that Uncle Norm would make another appearance! I have been doodling like crazy, so get ready for a wave of submissions on my DA. I also plan on doing more fan art for this story, so check it out! Last thing. I cannot get ahold of TTDW so if she doesn't contact me by friday, the collab is off. I'm sorry!**


	6. The Land of the SinkToilet!

**Gah! I am swamped! I have sooo much to do! Here is the next chapter then. Enjoy!**

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_Recap of last chapter:_

_The chief squinted at me, and met eyes with officer Chec-o. All at once, both pigs- I mean officers - started walking me to an interrogation room marked 'B'. When I sat down in the plastic chair, Norm said one thing that made me fear fo my safety-_

_"Do you have next of kin?"_

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I blanched. Next of kin? Like, the person you notify if someone dies? I really hoped that was cop humor, or that he said it just to throw me off. Anything would have been fine! I searched his eyes for any signs of dishonesty, or humor.

"My next of kin? I'm afraid I don't understand, officer." I said.

I seemed to have sobered up a lot by now. The nice tingly feeling was quickly being replaced with a heavy one. One that centered in the pit of my stomach and made me feel more nervous. I glanced from Norm to Check-o. Both seemed to be serious, and that only worried me more.

Check-o passed Norm a stack of papers in a manilla folder. My name was printed neatly on the folder, along with the date and officer Check-o's full name. Norm looked over the folders, and then slapped the down on the glass table.

"Do you have any idea how many rules of the penal code you have broken?" he demanded.

I sniggered a bit at his choice of words. Penal..heh heh..

"Is this funny to you? You are going away for a long time, Mr. Niccals." Norm said gravely. "Maybe I can convince the court to give you a life sentence.."

I balled my hand up, my nails digging into my skin. Did he know the kid or something? This was completely unfair! Norm picked up the folder and flipped a few pages in. He began to read one of them.

"Ram-raiding, drunk driving, destruction of property, dangerous driving..." he took a breath "...premeditated robbery, Reckless endangerment.. and if that kid dies, your also going in for vehicular manslaughter!" he all but roared. "Stuart was a nice kid! Good grades, voice like an angel, he played the keyboard like Al Kooper!"

Okay maybe he did know the kid, but at least my suspicions about the kid singing were confirmed.

"So how is...Stuart, is he..you know.." I asked, rolling my wrist around in circles.

"No Mr. Niccals, he is not dead. According to doctors he is in a deep catatonic state." he looked at me with hate in his eyes. "He can't even speak."

At that time, I only knew a bit about catatonia. I thought it was like a coma, ya know, they both start with a 'c', and were medical conditions. What? It's a perfectly logical train of thought! Geez.

"Do you like kids, Mr. Niccals?" Norm asked.

Where did that question come from? I wondered if he was going to make me babysit his kids to shorten my sentence. Talk about a corrupt cop.

"Kids eh? Little treasures, I love 'em... couldn't eat a whole one though..."I said.

"I have the perfect sentence in mind for you..." he said, smiling.

I saw an evil glint in his eye. He leaned over to officer Check-o, and whispered a few things in his ear. The both looked up and glared at me, then moved to a far corner of the room. I rolled my eyes and started picking at the red nail polish on my pinkie finger.

"Get up , you will wait in your holding cell until the trial."

I wondered when the trail would be. Was he going to make me wait for a day? A week? Months?

As if noticing my discomfort, he answered my unsaid question. "The trail is tomorrow, Mr. Niccals. Do you have a lawyer, or do we need to provide one?"

"I'll let you pick up the bill.." I muttered.

He made an amused sound. I looked at him, and his eyes gave me look telling me he wasn't surprised. I told you these guys were jerks! He stood up and motioned for me to do the same. Officer Check-o stood up behind me, and we started to walk towards the door. Well.. they started to walk towards the door. When _I_ stood up and walked to the edge of the table, I tripped over the garbage can. Yes, a garbage can.

Did you know they have little black garbage cans near the end of interrogation table? I think they are for the police to tap their cigars into or something.. but at that time I had no idea they were there! First I got my heel stuck in it, then it decided to slip. I windmilled my arms as the bin skated across the floor. The bin stopped, and I'm pretty sure I got some air time.

Let me tell you something. When you and an object connected to you are traveling together at the same speed, and the object stops, you still continue on the same trajectory. Now imagine the object a trashcan, and my foot in it. I paint a nice picture, yeah?

The bin skidded underneath the table, and I tripped forward. My knees hit the ground, and then my elbows, which seemed to prevent my chin from hitting next. When the (metaphorical) dust cleared, my arse was high in the air, my face pressed against the floor, and my arms lying on the ground like the useless pieces of bone and flesh they were. I may have resembled an inchworm, but let's not delve on the details.

"Quit your stalling Mr. Niccals!" Norm warned, his chins jiggling.

Did he seriously think I did that on purpose?! Wanker. Norm and Check-o walked over to me and hauled me up. We walked out the door and down a hallway leading to a cell block. The block was small and dirty, with white-painted concrete walls, and a stained concrete floor. The cops' strolled past a few cells and stopped at cell 66. It seemed that the last patron had scratched another 6 into the concrete. Was it fate that I, Murdoc Niccals, bass paying Satanist was locked in cell 666?

The cell had a small cot in one corner, a sink/toilet, and an additional bench. I was shoved in. I wandered over to the cot. Lying down, I let my mind wander. What was my sentence going to be?

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**This chapter was loosely dedicated to Peanut Butter and Little Pumpkin! I love reviews, and don't mind who review, and how many times, my mom rules, I must say. Love you guys!**


	7. The Dartmaster?

**It's me again! I'm sorta putting off Stu's catatonic POV, so it probably won't be for another chapter or two. I plan on making this story really long, so please comment any suggestions or requests of plot twists, inaccuracies, or ideas! Also check out my poll and vote on possible plot ideas! Thank you Mentalcase50 for review #40!**

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_Murdoc's dream~_

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It was warm there, too warm, but I had to deal with it. It's not like I had a choice. I wasn't surprised really, I even sort of expected it. It smelled awful. Like a thousand sewer systems that had been left to fester for a long time. The dry heat coupled with the foul stench was bad enough to make a weak-willed man turn and flee, but here I was. Elongated shadows' peeked around every boulder; their maroon color darkened by the smog and despair.

I had been here before. Many times actually. I knew I was dreaming, I even knew what I would be dreaming before I went to sleep. This was all planned. I was going to meet someone here, an old friend if you will. He lived here, in his kingdom. I was in the kingdom of fire and brimstone, death and despair. I was in the macabre evil that was this place.

I was in hell.

Like, literally. Before I went to sleep I requested an audience with him, the devil. Being as I was one of his best customers, he couldn't refuse. He never did, though. We were as thick as thieves, me and Satan. I had made many a deals with him, and he always delivered. He was actually a pretty cool guy.

What? Does that surprise you at all? I'm not kidding! He's so much more than just a diety to sacrifice small animals to! Sometimes when he visits earth, we hang out and watch movies and stuff. Did you know that he plays bass? I'm not kidding when I tell you I learned from the best, and he did it for free. No soul to give, no promise to make. I told you he was cool!

But I wasn't here today to socialize or watch movies, I needed a favor.

I saw a towering structure in the distance, its black spires casting heavy shadows on the surrounding landscape. Around it sat a few sparse trees and shrubs, but no signs of life other than that. I started to walk to the castle. A few small demons scampered across my path, but none approached me. It was known by many that I was on terms with The Devil, and no one dared to confront me. I was even accepted by most of the demons as one of their own. An honorary demon of sorts.

I was nearing the castle, and recognised the dull glow that surrounded the area. A few demon guards patrolled the area, but payed no attention to me. I walked past a particularly horrendous looking guard and approached the door. I knocked twice. The door opened revealing a huge entryway. The floor was a black and red checkered tile pattern, and had a dark red carpet leading from the door to a large throne.

The devil sat crooked on his throne, throwing darts at a dartboard on the far wall. He was tan, with dark black and red streaked hair. He had a goatee and sideburns, and his eyes were blue near the center, but transitioned to crimson halfway through. He looked extremely bored. He threw another dart at the board, and hit the bullseye, knocking the previous dart out.

I cleared my throat and walked to his throne. He threw his last dart and turned to sit in his chair properly.

"Ah! Murdoc!" he started, beckoning me to his side. "How's life treating ya?"

"Just wonderful. Irony at its fullest, I assure you." I sighed.

His smile faded. He snapped his fingers, and in a flash of fire and smoke, a chair appeared. He gestured to it and I sat down.

"You didn't come here just to chat, Murdoc, I can tell that much."

"I just ran over some kid, and got meself arrested. I'm in jail right now.."

"So ya need to get out? We can make a deal..."

"Not just that. I need more! I want to be famous! I need you to guarantee that!" I ranted. "All of me band mates have been complete idiots with the musical ability of a pile of woodchips! I need a new band, a perfect one!"

The devil raised an eyebrow at my rant and smiled. "All of that can be arranged...for a price." he smirked.

There was always a price. I wondered what it would be. I needed this so badly, so I was fully prepared to pay _any_ price.

"What did you have in mind? I have nothing to lose." I said and shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

"Hmmm... How about your soul? Yeah. That's perfect. I will take your soul once you release your first album." he said, grinning.

He wanted my soul. My soul! I needed my soul, but I also needed a band. I _really_ needed a band. I had to agree! I swallowed thickly and started to extend my han. We needed to shake on it to seal the deal. I was going to do this! I would be famous! Feeling more and more confident in the deal, I stuck my hand out to the devil. I smiled. The devil seemed to understand my gesture, and pulled his hand out too. We shook hands.

"A deal is a deal."

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I woke up with a start. The entire night had passed, and I could hear some cops talking in the other room. I heard a whisper, and the room got hot.

~_ A deal...is a...deal, Muuuuurrrrdddoooccc...~_

Yes, yes it was. I sat up in the cot and noted my skin. Sweat had beaded on my forehead, and seemed to have soaked through my shirt. I shuffled off the cot and walked over to the sink/toilet. I cupped my hands and gathered some water from the bowl, and splashed it on my face. That succeed in making me feel a bit better. By now the room had cooled down to its original temperature.

I heard footsteps approaching my cell, and soon officer Check-o was standing in front of my cell. He had a bundle of clothes in his hand, along with a comb and toothbrush.

"Get yourself cleaned up Mr. Niccals, your trial is this afternoon," he spat, handing me the bundle through the bars.

I glared at him and grabbed the bundle. I forgot how much of an arse he was. Stupid git.

I was fairly nervous for my trial, and Norm's statement was really weirding me out.

_"Do you like kids Mr. Niccals?"_

_"Kids? Little treasures. I love 'em...coulden't eat a whole one though..."_

_"Then I have the perfect sentence in mind for you..."_

What did kids have to do with anything? I changed into the suit and brushed my teeth. I ran the comb thru my hair (with difficulty), and tried not to strangle myself tying the tie. I sat on the cot and waited for officer Check-o. I knew the devil would get me out of this, but at what cost?

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**Ta Da! Tell me, should the next chapter be spotlighting 2D or Murdoc? Also, vote on my poll to help decide possible plot outcomes! **

**I also learned some Romanian:**

_***Ahem* Allo? Salut? Sintyaro, hei duke? **_**Those are the opening words to Numa Numa, and my Romanian friend Joanna taught me the words..**

**I also know how to say shut up (Tack din guurah) and what are you doing (Chow cheh fatch). Cool huh? Sorry, I'm just bored. I need 5 more reviews to post the next chapter yadda yadda yadda... So hurry up! VOTE ON MY POLL OR ELSE!**


	8. Minor Distraction!

**Heh heh... That last chapter was fun to write. More people need to vote on my poll! Just to be clear, this chapter takes place at the same time the last one, so Murdoc is sleeping right now, and talking to the devil. Next chapter is the trial, I got a request to do a 2D chappie, so I obliged. BE AWARE! I AM POSTING A NEW STORY SOON!**

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My world was pulsing. All I could see, all I could feel, and all I could hear was dull pain. Throbbing, beating, aching. The whole feeling was seemed to originate from my left eye socket, and echoed through my jaw in an 'oh-god-my-teeth-might-fall-out-if-I-so-much-as-sneeze' way. The dull, black void my mind had previously been encased in was fading away, and I was gaining awareness. Painful, throbbing awareness.

But with this awareness, I could hear people. They seemed to be nearby, and one of them was crying. I could hear them perfectly now, and realized there was a woman, and two men. One man didn't say much, and the other seemed to be comforting the crying woman. I wanted so badly to open my eyes and look at them, to see who they were, but I was too tired.

"It's going to be alright, Rachel. You have to be strong for him, okay?" the one man said.

Apparently the woman's name was Rachel. I heard the other man shift a bit, then he spoke.

"Mrs. Tusspot, your son will wake up soon, but... there is something else..."

Rachel froze up, and the man closest to me drummed his fingers nervously.

"What do you mean, something else, Dr. Yuiop? What is wrong with our son?" Rachel all but yelled.

"Your son is...catatonic, Mrs. Tusspot. He probably won't be able to talk, or perform advanced motor functions. He also has an eight-ball fracture in his left eye, and severe bruising on his jaw. He can still understand you, but may not respond." Dr. Yuiop said nervously.

I wondered who they were talking about. I felt bad for the poor bloke with the messed-up eye and jaw, until I realized that _I also_ had a messed up eye and jaw. So that ment I was also catatonic? Just great. Rachel was now sobbing.

"Oh Dave! He's so young! How are we going to care for him? We both have jobs, and he needs constant medical attention! If only I had come with him to that stupid shop!"

The shop! I remembered a bit about that. I was in..a store. A bookstore? Nah.. An instrument store perhaps? I was totally awake now, and gave myself a little pep-talk to work up the strength to open my eyes. This simple action made my left eye ache, and the bright lights of the room almost blinded me. I blinked again, this time the blurry outlines of the room solidified to the crisp, sharp edges of a hospital room. So I was in a hospital. Just wonderful. (Note the sarcasm.)

A chorus of gasps sounded next to me. I looked at the people next to me, and I could easily give titles to them. Dr. Yuiop, Rachel, and Dave. I could give names to these people, but I didn't know who they were. Rachel and Dave both looked at me with a mixture of worry and...affection? Did these people know me?

I put my hand up to my left eye, touching around the bone. It burned so badly, and my vision had taken on a slightly cloudy hue.

"Stu, don't touch." said Rachel, chiding me in a worried way.

It was like she was talking to a kid! I frowned slightly. Who was this woman, and why was she talking to me like that? I didn't know her, and she had no right to be bossing me around. If I wasn't so tired, I might have flicked her off.

My eyes slowly turned towards her, and I narrowed them slightly in my pitiful attempt at a glare. Yeah, that worked out well. She grabbed my wrist and forced my hand away from my eye, but in an impossibly gentle fashion. I was getting increasingly annoyed at this woman, and my mind worked as a child's would, wanting something simply because I was denied access to it. As soon as her hand left my wrist, I brought it up to my face again.

Me: 1 - Bossy Rachel lady: 0!

Rachel frowned deeply and grabbed my wrist again, but more forcefully than last time. She brought it all the way down to the mint-green sheets on the bed, and pinned it there. My thin little wrists and long fingers were no match for her thick and stubby ones. I attempted to pull my hand out, but her stupid hand wouldn't let me.

Me: 1 - Bossy evil Rachel lady: 1..

Rachel looked at me with obvious concern, and I slowly met her gaze.

"Stu, honey? Do you understand me?" she asked worriedly.

I opened my mouth to answer her, but nothing came out. Not cool! What was happening here? I tried once again to answer her, and failed. What was going on? I started to panic a little. I was in a hospital room surrounded by people I didn't recognise, and I couldn't talk! My eyes widened and I quickly sat up, ignoring the sudden burst of pain. I looked at the other people in the room and attempted to scoot back in my bed. At this point II was able to remove my hand from Rachel's.

I looked towards the door, but the doctor must have seen that coming and was standing close to it. Rachel and Dave were right next to my bed, and looked like they were going to grab me at any moment. I realized that I had no escape, and I panicked a little more. Finding nowhere to go, I brought my blanketed knees to my chest and buried my head in my hands.

"What happened to our son?" Rachel wailed.

I wanted to comment that I was not her son, but, ya know, I couldn't really talk.

"Does he even recognise us? Is that why he looks so scared? Is he in pain? I can tell he's in pain! Do something doctor!" Rachel ranted hysterically.

I took a frightened glance at the doctor, and he took a calculating glance at me. Sighing, he walked over to a table at the far end of the room, and started to fiddle with something on it. I followed him with my gaze. He walked back over to me with one of his hands behind his back, and whispered something to Rachel, who nodded solemnly.

Dr. Yuiop calmly walked to the opposite side of my bed.

"Stuart?" Rachel called.

I turned to her at the sound of my name. Yes, I knew it was my name, and it was one of the few things I was sure of. I looked at her questioningly, and then started to look away. She quickly snapped her fingers near my face, and that was _far _too interesting to ignore. I quickly focused my gaze on her fingers, and she continued to snap them. I felt something cool rub on the crook of my arm, but was to focused on Rachel's fingers to really care.

Suddenly, I felt a painful prick on the same spot. This sensation was more interesting than the snapping fingers, and I saw Dr. Yuiop pull an empty syringe from my arm. My veins suddenly felt cold, and I wanted to rub away the feeling, but I couldn't! I looked at him and Rachel with an expression of disbelief and hurt. Had he just...?

I was losing awareness again. I had grown to hate the feeling, but I really couldn't prevent it. I let Rachel move my long legs away from my chest, and I let my head fall back onto the thin hospital pillows. Rachel was now grasping my hand again, but I was way too tired to pull away. My eyelids seemed so heavy...

Rachel was sobbing again, and Dave had his hand around her shoulder. Dr. Yuiop eyed me carefully.

"This isn't fair! He's only fifteen! Things like this shouldn't happen to fifteen year olds! It's not fair!" Rachel sobbed.

The room started to spin, and my eyes drifted shut.

HJjjjsgjyeeeeeeeeeeeebdhhuuu uuuuuuuuuuufttttttttttdddddd ddddhhjkkllooii...

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**Sorry that took so long. I just couldn't seem to start it! Heh heh.. Okay, so next chapter is in _'s POV. Who should narrate the next chapter? Thank you all who have favorited and followed my story, and those that have reviewed!**


	9. Vapor trail?

**Hey Hey Hey! THAT LAST CHAPPIE GOT THE REVIEWS SOOO FAST! I THINK WE'RE OVER 60 NO****W, SO TO CELEBRATE, I'M MAKING THIS CHAPTER EXTRA-LONG! BWAHAHAHAHAHAH... MRHMRMRMRHMRHRM... Oh yeah, and it is my birthday today, so yeah! I'm going to be 14! Also, I'm leaving a multiple-choice question at the end. I need 5 reviews for the next chapter, and whatever gets the most votes, I will write! Enjoy!**

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Black shadows enclosed the corners of the cell, the silvery threads of a cobweb poking through. The walls that connected to form these corners were dirty and cracked, stained from the endless criminals and convicts that had inhabited them previous to my arrival. Names were etched into the dark grey walls, along with numbers and symbols. The old floor was made of cheap concrete and had corners that had held many weeping men. Many had been there before me, and many would be after, but I was all that mattered. The dank room smelled of fear and angst, barely discernible from the sharp stench of urine.

Dark stains littered the bed I was sitting on, some with dots of white in them, like someone had tried to bleach them out, but gave up long ago. They were less-than-gentle reminders of where I was, and burdened my subconscious with images of burnt out hopes and dreams. The wails and pleads of the forgotten fought to reach my ears, but in the end, I never provided my sympathies, nor comfort or empathy.

I felt dammed to eternity in the constrictive fabric that clung to my body, its dark green stitching emanating no comfort. I felt that its regular purpose of making one look more appealing had been lost, now only there to show your surrender. In a way, I had submitted to will of others, but in another way, I had not. I had thought about the concept many times, and left it now as an eternally unanswered question. Who cared, anyway?

Bars of hard, solid metal separated me from my freedom, but only to the extent decided by others. My future was left in the hands of people who knew nothing about me, knew nothing of my circumstances, and defiantly knew nothing of my special 'relations'. How was I going to get out of this? I had the devil on my side, but what exactly could be done for me?

I had taken the childhood of some kid, and crushed it with my car. How would he live? How would I live? I wondered what the devil would do. I was sure he had something up his sleeve, but what? I _really_ hoped he had thought up something good. I'm very sure that if someone looked at me right now, they would see a dark cloud above my head, threatening to rain.

_Click-clop-Click-clop_

My dark musings were interrupted by the distinct sound of formal dress shoes, with their 'Click-Click' sound.

_Click-clop-Click-clop_

I could also hear officer Check-o's shoes, landing with the heavy 'clop-clop' sound I had long since associated with cop shoes.

_Click-Click-clop-clop_

I looked up, and through the bars I saw officer Check-o glaring at me. The man beside him was another story though. I recognised him. The goatee, the sideburns, the chilling blue eyes. It was...him! I stood up and walked over to the bars, when officer Chock-o spoke up.

"Mr. Niccals, meet your lawyer, Mr. Satanael. He specifically requested to defend you... " he leaned towards me "I'm not sure how you got this guy, Niccals. You must be in league with the devil or something.." he said.

I'm pretty sure that was just a lucky guess, or a figure of speech.

"Right.. In league with the devil" I said nervously.

Mr. Satanael surprised us with a deep, resonating laugh.

"Erm.. I'll leave you two at it for a while.." he said suspiciously, and opened my cell.

He ushered Mr. Satanael into my cell, and closed the door. He walked out of the area to give us a bit of privacy.

"Er.. yer a lawyer?"

"How am I _not_ a lawyer?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh."

It made sence.

He eyed my tight-fitting suit.

"Nice get-up, Mudsy." he said, openly laughing.

"Aw shaddup..."

He grinned his perfect grin, and waved his hand in front of my suit. It shimmered for a moment, and I felt it loosen up a bit. The faded colors were vibrant again, and the edges were crisp and neat. I looked fantastic! He looked at me for a moment, then did his little hand-wavey thingie. The air around me lightened somewhat, and my hair seemed to feel less.. nasty?

"There! Now you look less like a dumpster-diver." he said, and produced a small hand-mirror from his pocket.

I looked, and discovered that my messy bangs were razor-sharp along my forehead, and my hair was shiny, but not greasy. I felt..clean.

"This whole... hygienic thing... It won't last long, right?" I asked, slightly worried.

He laughed and nodded. Whew. For the next few minutes, we chatted about things. I'm not really gonna get in to the details, as it was only idle chat. We did talk about my defence though. He wouldn't tell me much, but I figured I was in good..or rather bad hands. Our idle chat turned to laughing at current events, most of which he caused.

I heard the distinct 'clop-clop' of cop shoes again, and Check-o appeared in front of my cell. He looked at my lawyer warily. I think maybe he was scared of him, or intimidated, or something.

"Ten minutes until the trial, Mr. Niccals." he said.

He approached my cell, and shoved his hand in his pocket. He fished around for a bit, and I heard a faint 'clink' sound. He produced a key ring from his pocket, and looked through them. I took notice of numbers on each key, and determined they were cell keys. He picked one out, and shook the ring gently to settle the keys. He jammed the only key marked '666' on the ring into the rusty lock on my door, and turned. The door creaked, and he swung it open. He ushered us out, and put the key back in his pocket.

The cop turned from the door, and took the opportunity to gape at me. He seemed to have noticed my improved appearance, and was quite shocked. What? Is it such a crime to look good? He wouldn't know, he dresses like a bad rendition of a 'good-cop' costume. When will these wankers learn to dress properly?

Check-o led us out of the cellblock, into the main area. The receptionist at the desk nearly fainted at the sight of us. I'm one handsome devil, and the Devil is...well..one handsome devil! (Hmrhmrhmrhrmh mhmrhmrh rmhr...!) I winked at her, and we exited the main building. The courthouse was five minutes away, and we were taking a police car. Once outside, I looked back at the dirty, white paneled, station. Would this be the last time I would see it?

Check-o ushered us into the cop car. I didn't even bother doing up the seatbelt, and neither did 'Mr. Satanael'. Officer Checnotskimarkoik(?) drove quickly to the courthouse, not even leaving me enough time for my shenanigans. I guess he learned. Who knew pigs could be trained?

The courthouse was clean, tidy, and smelled of pine-sol, even from the outside. It had stuccoed gray walls, and a large statue of justice flanking the right side. She was probably steel, painted gold to hide the cheap construction. I ogled her for a moment. Lady justice is hoooooooottttttt...

Officer Check-o interrupted my musings with a discreet cough, and we hurried into the courtroom. I had been here many times before, and knew exactly where to go.I led the way through the double doors, and to the defence stand. People crowded the seats, and it seemed that people were excited to have jury duty, if only for my case. Quiet murmurs filled the room, and only escalated when we were seen. Check-o scurried over to a bench, and sat down.

I turned around a bit before sitting, and a collective gasp was heard. Apparently people liked my new apperal more than I thought. Hmmm... Oh yeah, uh..where were we? Oh yea! I sat down, and some big cop-guy swore me in. Think Judge Judy meets WWE wrestler. I took my usual seat at the defence side, and Mr. Satanael sat beside me.

"Just let me do all the talking." he whispered to me encouragingly.

I nodded. A portly african woman in a maroon judge robe wafted to the desk-thingie, and looked over it. She sat down with an important air, making me choke down a huff of derision.

"Alright then, this is case #666, The county of West Sussex versus Murdoc Niccals. All parties sworn in. Mr. Niccals, you are being charged for destruction of public property, robbery, pre-meditation of crime, bodily harm, drunk driving, and damage to personal property. You may begin." she said in a hollow voice, and everyone sat down.

The prosecution started, and the county representative stood up. He paced for a moment, and began.

"On the afternoon of Saturday, July 7, Murdoc Nicclas deliberately drove his Vauxhall Astra through the window of a music shop, hitting 15 year-old Stuart Tusspot. The boy was admitted to the hospital and suffered three broken ribs, two cracked ones, an eight-ball fracture, a concussion, and is now catatonic. This young man may never talk, or play his beloved keyboard again, thanks to Mr. Niccals."

He walked across the room and turned to my lawyer "Your client ruined-no, destroyed the life of an innocent kid, and yet you still choose to defend him. I both pity you, and respect your bravery." he said, and sat down.

The crowd murmured thoughtfully. Mr. Satanael stood up, and walked to the front of the room.

"Alright then, lets start with the charges. It is to my understanding that my client is being charged for pre-meditated robbery, but how exactly can you determine that? What proof do you have this was on purpose?"

The rep seemed a bit taken back, but provided his answer.

"Mr. Niccals was seen in the store up to six days before the robbery, asking about the security and heaviness of some objects. The store naturally was suspicious, and asked him to leave. The next day, he crashed through the storefront."

"That is not any sort of proof! And how do you know this was a robbery? Was anything stolen?" Mr. Satanael said, not missing a beat.

"Uh, well, no. But-"

"There is no 'but'. My client has been charged with two unnecessary crimes, both of wich, he is innocent of. It seems that the county is over-exaggerating their claims."

The room was silent, and the man representing the state seemed to pale. It was working!

"I request you drop the charges for robbery and pre-meditated crime." Mr. Satanael said.

The courtroom erupted in quiet murmurs, and the judge seemed to be contemplating something.

"Would the county like to retract their charges of robbery and pre-meditated crime?" she asked, looking down at the county rep.

The county rep and his colleagues whispered for a moment.

"Yes ma'am, we would."

YES! We were in court for less than five minutes, and I was already down two charges!

"My client may not have been even trying to hit the shop! According to security tapes, there were others in the car, and they fled the scene. My client tells me that they were distracting him, and one attempted to grab the wheel. This action sent them careening into the shop. So no, ladies and gentleman of the jury, my client did not mean to hit the victim, nor was he attempting to rob the store."

I saw him rub his fingers behind his back. A small trail of dust passed from them, and wafted to a stack of papers on the county rep's desk. The dust found a paper, and when it touched it, the paper vanished. It seemed I was the only one who noticed this, so the trial continued.

"There is no official record of my client being drunk, either."

"OBJECTION!"

The rep seemed a little red in the face, and when he shouted, spittle flew in little flec's everywhere. Eww..

"I have official documents proving he does! They're right... here?" he said, and shuffled through his stack of papers.

"Where'd they go?" He said quietly to himself, and I could hear the panic in his voice.

"It seems, your honor, that my client is being accused of claims that he did not commit, nor does the county have proof of."

"BUT I HAD THEM!"

"Then where are they?"

_-SILENCE-_

"I thought so."

The judge raised an eyebrow. I figured she had never seen a case slaughtered so quickly.

"So the charges of drunk driving are also being dropped?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am." the rep said tiredly.

Mr. Satanael smirked. I only had destruction of property, damage to personal property, and bodily harm left! I waited patiently for my lawyer to continue.

"What personal property was damaged?"

"Pardon?"

"I said, what personal property was damaged?" Mr. Satanael said, and rubbed his fingers together. But instead of getting rid of a paper, the dust seemed to seep inside it.

I raised my eyebrow at the Devil. What was that? I wondered if maybe his magic didn't work, or it malfunctioned or something. I was worrying a bit now. I stared at my lawyer, almost wishing I could shoot lazers out of my eyes at him, or read his mind. Did he plan on this, or was it a mistake?

The county rep shuffled through the papers, and pulled one out. He eyed it, and my heart did a flip-flop.

"Personal items damaged were:a small desk-lamp, 35 guitars, 16 keyboards, 4 dumsets, a harpsichord, and 2 organs." the rep said with a smirk.

So what did the dust do? Did it reduce the number of damaged items, or did it go into a different document altogether?

"Your honor, if the crash was accidental, or of fault of others, would any damages be in the hands of my client?" the Devil asked.

"No, Mr. Satanael, they wouldn't."

"So all of the state's claims are void then?"

"Yes, it appears so. Does the plaintiff have any more accusations they would like to bring to the court's attention?" the judge asked.

Forget what I said about her earlier, this woman rocks!

"No" the rep said "That is all."

The judge nodded at him, and raised her gavel.

"I rule in favor of the defendant." she said, and brought down her gavel.

"Wait!" Mr. Satanael said.

She paused, and retracted the wooden hammer.

"Do you have something else to add, Mr. Satanael?"

"Yes ma'am. My client feels for the family of the victim, and has volunteered to take care of the boy for a few hours each day. He has a medical degree in administration of medicines, and no day job. If this is all fine with the parents, of corse. From what I understand, both parents work days, and the mother is a nurse. Her services are needed to save lives, and she may not have the time to care for her injured son, or at least as not as long as he should get. My client would also need some funds to pay for extra food, and provisions of corse..."

WHAT? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I HAD TO TAKE CARE OF SOME KID?! WAS HE OUT OF HIS MIND!? I was about to open my mouth and protest, but a familiar-looking dust circled around my mouth, and I seemed to lose the ability to speak. Wow. Now I knew hot that kid felt..

"That sounds fine, Mr. Satanael. Is this information correct Mr. Niccals?"

I found myself nodding my head.

"Alright then, the court will arrange for this. I'm sure the parents will be happy to hear that their son will be receiving the help he needs!" she said excitedly.

So now I gotta take care of this kid? What am I gonna do?

* * *

**Okay, so here's the question: How will Mudsy deal with this?**

**Option 1: Refuse to take care of Stu, and go after the devil for getting him into this (might lead to violence). /_or_/**

**Option 2: Take in Stu, but try his best to avoid/damage/ditch him (might lead to fluff).**

**WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? YOU DECIDE! Also, to help decide the plot, vote on my poll!**

**-morethanjustausername**


	10. Do the Crab Walk!

**Okay then! It seems option #2 is extremely popular. I guess more people like cuteness than violence, and that is awesome! So, I hope you like the first meeting between Mudsy and 2D (technically he is Stu right now..) This will prolly switch POV's halfway through, because I write as Murdoc a lot. 2D used to be my favorite Gorilla(z), but after writing as Murdoc so much and playing the Geep game, I think I like both the same. Well, not quite. I am obsessed with drawing 2D, and I have even started sculpting him in computer class. DON'T JUDGE ME! If I get good enough at drawing him, I might start a Gorillaz comic on DA...But prolly not. Has anyone even seen my DA stuff?**

**MY UPDATE SPEED IS A BIT SLOW, I KNOW. BUT I HAVE SCHOOL AND STUFF, SO SOOORRRYYY!**

* * *

I felt my lips twitch up im a smile that was not my own. What was he thinking? Taking care of some kid wasn't going to get me famous! I wanted to be a musician, not a babysitter! The thing about kids is, they talk non-stop. Always yelling with their high-pitched little voices! Then if I tell 'em to shut their faces, they cry! But, the officers back in the interrogation room said he couldn't speak... So was he just gonna stand there and be quiet if I took him in?

The idea of a kid was growing on me more and more, but not for those mushy reasons you probably think. He could cook and clean, while I sat back and focused on putting a band together! I remembered something about him playing the keyboard, so maybe he could even play for free! I would never have to pay him or give him credit! How perfect!

I felt the smile on my lips become my own, the corners twitching upwards even further. The devil looked back at me, and seemed confused for a second. He probably didn't understand why I was so happy, but I planned on telling him later..

Some stupid little ankle-biter would be perfect, but how fast could I get him? Don't get me wrong, I still really hate kids, and little teenagers are even worse, but nothing three of four minutes underwater doesn't solve! Hmrhmrh hmrhrmrhr... Just kidding! Geez, don't give me that look!

The courtroom was nearly empty; aside from some old bat who seemed to be haunting the isles. Did she even know where she was? I really doubted it, but I will let you draw your own conclusions. I wondered if maybe she was part of the jury, and was unaware that the case was adjourned. I had an aunt once who would forget where she was...swore like a sailor, she did...

Mr. Satanael gathered up his papers and haphazardly stuffed them in a black briefcase. I had not seen the briefcase before, so I assumed he conjured it somehow. Sneaky bastard.. He stepped out of the defendant's stand. The dark man glanced at me quickly, obviously wondering why I was standing there grinning like an idiot. I just got a free maid and keyboardist! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!

Mr. Satanael gave me another one of his weird looks, and walked down the long hall leading to the double doors, leaving me trailing behind him like a dog that had eaten one of his master's 'special brownies'. He kicked the heavy door open, and the light of the early afternoon streamed in, easily highlighting the dust in the air. Flying, floating, falling.. He pushed his shoulder into the door, shoving it open before it could close again.

"Murdoc, could ya give me a hand?"

I looked at him, and raised my eyebrow lazily. He had his briefcase in one hand, and the other one was free. Why didn't he just push it open? I bet he just didn't want to put in the effort of moving a door. Whatever. For anyone else, I would have given 'em the finger and walked off, but this man had just talked me out of multiple jail sentences! I pushed open the door.

Ugh. It was so bright out! He smiled suavely and walked past me into the sunlight beyond. I cringed, and pressed forward. Once I exited the courtroom, my suit began to feel tight and constrictive again, and my hair felt heavier. I was back to my old dirty, smelly self! Hmmm.. That sounded a lot better in my head. Never mind. He sauntered over to his car, and ducked into the driver's seat, throwing his bag into the back. I clambered into the passenger seat.

"Allright Murdoc, I want you to listen closely, as I will only say this once. Whatever you do, DON'T LOSE THE KID! Do you understand me? He's your first step towards getting a band."

"Ok, but how is some mute kid gonna help me get a band?"

"Just.. keep him close. He holds the key to your success."

"I really don't see how-"

"JUST DO IT!"

"..."

"Fine.."

"Don't worry your stinky little head, Murdoc. The upside is, you can beat on him all you want and he can't tattle!"

"Oh yeah!"

"Good. We're driving to the hospital so you can meet him. I will be talking to his parents, so you get custody. Try not to hit him until we get back to your flat, okay?"

I nodded. The thing that was really on my mind was how he would be the key to my success. The only thing I could even think of was his singing. I mean, I knew he could sing, but I had never heard it. Plus, he is mute! Mute people can't sing! As long as he was catatonic, I was SOL on that particular idea. Sigh, it was gonna be a loooong ride.

* * *

Nngh..My head felt like a bunch of whales were kickboxing with it..with their fin..flipper...thingies.. AAAGHH! I couldn't even put together an understandable sentence! I had been awake for a few hours now, but opening my eyes was out of the question. My left eyeball felt like it was a hot coal in my eye socket, and even if I moved my eyes beneath my eyelids, I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. I _really_ didn't want the evil doctor guy to come back, or those weird people who claimed to be my parents.

I wondered why my real parents hadn't come yet, but figured they were just...busy. I was getting hungry, so I cracked my less-outchie eye open and looked around for a nurse. The room was blurry, and spun slightly, but my eye adjusted quickly. I built up the courage to open my other eye, but it was a lot more sensitive than the first. I cried out from the main..but.. I didn't. I just...couldn't.

Panic mode. I remembered not being able to talk before, but chalked it up to nervousness in my musings, but now a new thought was entering my damaged head. I couldn't talk. I couldn't talk! No no no no.. This is terrible! How could I tell someone if I was trapped under a car! Or a-.. Wait a moment..

Trapped under a car? That seems...familiar.

A clatter on the opposite side of the room caught my attention. Noises seemed to be doing this, but the effect was wearing off. A nurse dressed in mint green scrubs came in pushing a food cart. She noticed me looking at her, and her heavily make-uped eyes widened.

"Y-you're awake!"

I wanted desperately to say something like 'No, I'm an octopus' or 'Are you just noticing that...now?" but I couldn't. It was probably a good thing, too. I am terrible at witty comebacks.

The nurse darted to the door and quietly closed it. She skipped back over too me and leaned over my bed. I uhh.. could see a nice view.. of her...you know..

"Kid, I've been wondering.. What's with yer hair? It looks so real, but it can't be! Yew've got no roots!"

Really? My hair? Wow. I shook my head, at lack for a better answer.

"Oh ya.. Yew can't talk anymore, can yew?"

Her accent sounded forced.

"Well me name's Paula. Paula Cracker, And I'm yer nurse this evening!" she said, giving a deep bow.

I would have laughed, but, ya know. No talking. This Paula looked a little crazy. She was looking at me in a really weird way, and I was getting the creepies. She looked like she was trying so hard to look like an British person, when she was obviously an American! She purposely opened her eyes extra-wide, and she was using a lot of bad english. I wondered when she would leave.

"Yew luckey little fella! Yew 'ave a visitor!" she said and turned back to the door, leaving the food cart next to my bed.

"And a handsome one at that... Anyway, there are some clothes on the cart, so yew can change. Yer visitor will be here shortly."

I smiled and nodded, hoping she would leave already. She did, thankfully, but I had a feeling she would be back to scrutinize my hair again. Weirdo. I pulled the cart closer to me and found a file of clothes on the bottom shelf. I smiled. My real parents had packed my favourite tee shirt and jeans! I Pulled them onto my lap and pulled myself off the bed. It was way harder than it should have been, but I managed to get standing on the floor.

The tile was cold on my bare feet, and I wiggled my toes. At least _they_ still worked. I slowly shuffled to a door with a bathroom sign next to it, and pushed my way inside. There was a spot in there where a mirror had been at one point (I could tell, because the colour was faded except for one square), and I wondered why it had been removed. Maybe the last patient was crazy and broke it? It was sorta disappointing, because I wanted to see what the big hairy deal was with my eye.

I hauled my jeans on, but it was difficult. My arms felt like frozen sausages, and I could barely feel anything on my body. I pulled on my shirt too, but had to take it off and try again because I could feel the tag in my chest. I grabbed the hospital gown off of the ground, and tried to fold it up a bit. I never had been very good at folding...

I walked back into the main room and stuffed the foldedish gown back into the cart. I took a plastic protecter-thingie off of the food and looked at it. I sat down on the bead and picked at it. I had a piece of soggy toast and some old looking jam packets. Eeew. I pushed the cart away and sighed. When was my visitor going to come?

Almost on cue, I heard a sneeze from outside the door before it was thrown open by a demon. Wait..what? A demon?! There was a scary looking...thing standing in the doorway! It had green skin and razor-sharp black hair. He gave me a really scary smile, and I saw his super-sharp teeth.

I backed up quickly on my bed, feeling much like a crab if it were in the same position. A big difference between me and crabs though, is that the crab would have noticed the edge of the bed. So, in short, I fell.

CRASH!

My head and shoulders took most of the impact, while one of my legs was still on the bed, the other one hanging over my head. I know for a fact that is isn't safe for a concussion victim to hit their head, but since fate just loved to see me in pain, it left me with the worst migraine I have ever had. So instead of calling for my fake parents or Paula to rescue me from this demon, I was left motionless on the ground, clutching my spinning head. In my short trip to the ground, one of my half thawed-out sausage legs managed to drag a sheet along with me, which it was now tangled in and somehow still managed to spill the jam-packets from the food tray.

Just great.

In my efforts to not kill myself, I did not notice something. A sound made up of breathing in really fast and then breathing out while saying 'ha'.

Someone was laughing at me.

* * *

**Okay, a few more things. I want to thank Winnebago for their comment on TPIAY, it really means a lot! I am also looking for any potential collaborators, and I am a beta reader looking for work...so...ya...**


	11. The Promised Fluff

**Hey! So, I am sick today, and decided that it would be a good time to top up my stories! I will be updating a bit slower now because I now have 4 ongoing stories. I'm gonna stick a poll up for which story you want updated first, so vote for your favorite! The last chapter I promised a bit off fluff, but didn't really deliver, so here is a chapter full of it! (Or the best I could manage)**

* * *

The demon was laughing at me!

I squirmed weakly under the covers, only managing to get myself tangled further under them. I wrenched one of my arms out of the sheets, and used my now-free hand to pull the fabric off of my face. I tugged weakly at the sheet wrapped around my torso, until my body just..stopped. My arms dropped limply onto the scratched tile floor with a quiet 'thud'. I felt so tired all of a sudden, and instead of not being able to move, I just couldn't bring myself to move them. In this time of random stillness, I caught my breath, and Mr. Scary-Demon guy decided to stop laughing at me and walk around my bed.

He stopped about half a foot away from my head and looked down at me. I attempted to silently tell him off, but I just couldn't seem to have the motivation to move. Instead, I just stared at him.

"Would ya like a bit of help?" he asked, raising an unseen eyebrow.

At that moment, my limbs decided that I was allowed to move again, so I nodded. Yes, I did want a bit of help, I really did. He bent down a bit, his back loudly cracking. I wondered how old he must have been, for his back to crack like that. He reached his hand out to me, which, after glancing at his sharp fingernails cautiously, I took, and he pulled me up. I stood up a bit shakily, swaying a bit before sitting back down on the bed. He made a shooing motion with his hands, which I interpreted as 'move over'. So I did.

"Yew look like you're wearing a toga." he said, gesturing to the sheet still stuck to my torso.

I would have laughed and agreed, I really would have. Instead, I settled for smiling and chuckling silently.

"So... My name is Murdoc.. I err... Was there ya when yew were in an accident. Do ya remember that?" he asked carefully.

"..." I said.

After realizing that all I had done was move my mouth, I looked at Murdoc, somewhat embarrassed. I put my one of my hands flat out, and used a finger from the other one to scribble on it, like a pen and paper.

"Yew want somthin' to write on, yeah..." he mumbled to himself, before searching around for my requested item.

He spotted a clipboard with my information on it sitting in a tray at the end of my bed, and grabbed it. It had a pen attached to it, which he passed to me before flipping the papers over. Luckily, the back page was blank, giving me tons of writing room.

_"I dont remember an axident. Just the music shop, and my face hurting." _I wrote, before passing the clipboard to him.

"Alright then..." he said, sounding relieved.

_"I'm Stuart by the way, but call me Stu. What do u meen axident? What hapend?" _I wrote.

"I was in the passenger seat of a car with my friends, an the err...driver! Yeah, the driver was drunk and he drove right through the window of that music shop, straight into yer face. They all ran off, and I was the one that made sure yew didn't die! Yew owe me yer life!" he said dramatically.

I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not, but I agreed anyway. This man had saved my life! I nodded to show that I was okay with that.

_"Thank u verry mutch Murdock! I have a qwestin tho. Are u a demon?" _I wrote before hesitantly passing him the clipboard.

"Am I a demon?!" he laughed, "Naw, just a devout Satanist. That's cute, though." he said, before seeming to realize something.

"Wait, is that why yew fell of tha' bed when I first came in? Yew thought I was a demon?"

I nodded.

"Did I...scare yew?"

I nodded again, my face getting a bit red. He laughed again before clapping me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me off the bed again.

"Oh, thats priceless!" he said, before adding "And Stu, my name is spelt M-U-R-D-O-C, there is no 'K' in it." as an afterthought.

_"My bad. Have u seen my pearents? Theese people keep coming in claiming to be them, but i dont reconise them!" _I wrote.

I could almost hear the gears clicking and whirring in his head.

"Uh, those people are from the crazy ward upstairs. Yer real parents...uh... they left for... Cambodia for a few weeks before the accedent! I'm gonna be takin' care of yew now, though! How does that sound?"

_"Cambodea? Is that in China or sumthink?" _

"Err...Yeah?."

_"When can i leave? i hate hospitels beacuse the bathrooms allways have whale picertures in them."_

"Whales? Do you not like whales?" he said, giving me a funny look.

_"Not at all. I hate them!"_

"That's new.." he said.

I noticed that whenever he talked to me, he always looked at my left eye. That was the one that hurt so bad, so there had to be something wrong with it! I knew it!

_"Can u tell me whats rong with my eye? It relly hurts, and there is no miror in the bathroom."_

"Uh.. I don't know how to even explain it to yew... I would have to show you.. Promise to stay calm?" he asked me nervously.

I stuck out my pinkie finger.

_"Pinky promis!"_

"Eh?... Sure, why not." he said, and shook pinkies with me.

His skin was uncomfortably hot, so ifter shaking, I wrenched my pinkie off of his and blew on it a few times. Seeing this, Murdoc rolled his eyes before digging around in his pockets. He produced a flick knife, a pack of cigarettes, a bullet, a chewed-up piece of gum in it's wrapper, some car keys and something circular in a small square plastic wrapper. He saw me stare at that last item, and quickly shoved it back in his pocket.

"It was a lollipop wrapper!" he said quickly.

He grabbed the flick knife and opened all of the blades. He inspected them, before closing all of the blades but the largest on. When he passed it to me, I thought he was gonna stab me!

"Stu, quit being dramatic. Look at you're reflection in the blade." he said, somewhat annoyed.

I smiled a goofy smile at him and took the blade gingerly in both hands. I angled it slowly so I could see my mouth in it, then my nose, then my...eyes..? WHAT IN THE SAUSAGE-ROLLS HAPPENED TO MY EYE?! My right was was relatively normal, if not a bit bloodshot, but my left eye.. It was completely black! I switched the blade into one hand and brought it closer to my face, pulling my eyelid up gently (it still hurt) and examining the void that was supposed to be my eye. I was about to poke it when Murdoc spoke up.

"Hey, don't touch it! Yew'll only make it hurt more!"

I stopped mid-poke. I remembered when those crazy people came into my room, and how they told me not to touch it. I was a bit dis-oar-ee-ent-ate-ed then, but I still remembered how they spoke to me. They acted as if I were a child! Murdoc though, he spoke to me differently, and, out of respect for this, I put my hand down without a fuss.

"I can kind of explain what happened to yer eye. Do ya...wanna know?" he asked.

I set the knife down and grabbed the clipboard. I only wrote on word.

_"YES"_

* * *

**Didja like that chapter? **

**Should the next chapter be in Murdoc's POV or Stu's? And remember that easter egg I described in TPIAY? That will be coming up in one or two chapters, so keep yer eyes peeled!**

**Please, if you read this chapter, review. It's really not that hard. I mean, my technologically challenged grandparent even figured it out.**

**Do it.**


	12. I'm Taking This!

**So, this chapter is kinda funny. I hope you like it! Also, there is a reviewer vote at the end! Can someone please tell me what 2D's recommended zombie movies are? If someone does, I will dedicate the next chapter to them!**

* * *

It was an extreme coincidence that I even knew how to explain this particular malady. I mean, how often does an 8-ball fracture come up in everyday life? During a brief interlude in which I was arrested in Mexico, I studied administration of pharmaceutical medicines (and received a doctorate), but focused particularly on odd diseases and medical what-not. During my studies, I came across Hypherma (the actual name of an 8-ball fracture), and studied it furiously. The thing with Hypherma was that usually, only a bit of the eye was darkened, but with Stuart, his whole eyeball was pushed back, and entirely blackened.

How was I expected to explain all that to a _fifteen year-old_? He didn't seem very bright, and I could barely read any of his miss-spelled chicken-scratch writing. I brought a hand to my temple, and sighed, going over in my head how to explain such a rare and odd condition. I got about halfway thinking through my semi-prepared speech/lecture when a question streaked through my mind.

"Err... Stuart, why is yer hair blue?" I asked carefully.

He looked a bit bored, the picked up the clipboard and pen and began scribbling/writing.

_"i fel out of a tree wen i was 7 and my hare fel out and gru bac blue. i dont know how that works so plese dont ask me."_ he wrote, spelling mistakes running rampid.

It seemed like he had been asked that question too many times. I mean, blue was such an odd colour to dye your hair, and I have no trouble imagining him getting bullied relentlessly for being 'that poof with the blue hair'. Hmmm...seems like something I would say. Some furious scribbling and a clipboard being pushed into my hands brought me out of my musings.

_"can u plese tel me y my eye is all black and scary loking? i need more payper."_ he wrote.

Oh yeah, I was supposed to explain his 'scary loking' eye.

"Geez, kid. Don't go gettin' yer knickers in a twist! So, basically, yer eye got pushed back into yer head, and filled up with blood. For some reason, though, it filled up more than usual and turned...black. It will go away in a little while, though, so don't be worrying yerself into another coma!"

He nodded in understanding, then looked confused, then searched around on the paper fo a empty spot to write on. There was none, so he resorted to writing on his arm.

_"Anuther comma?!"_ he wrote, his mismatched eyes wide.

He didn't know? The people here were really keeping him out of the loop..

"Yeah, you were out for three or four days! Did anybody even talk to you here?!" I asked.

Stuart stared at me, looking a bit annoyed. He flicked the pen at me.

"Hey! Yer gonna get ink on my shirt!" I said, my voice raising higher than I would have liked.

He shrugged, brought his fingers back up to his eye, and poked at it in a bit of a bored way. Then I realized what his issue was.

He was out of paper.

I looked around , but came up empty handed. It seemed the only paper in the whole room was the one on the back of the clipboard. What a horribly cheap hospital!

"Sorry, mate. Outta paper."

The teenager looked a bit annoyed, then suddenly froze. He hunched forward, clutching his head. He groaned a bit, and seemed to be clenching his jaw tightly.

"Uhh... Stuart? Yew okay mate?"

He shook his head slowly, and swayed a bit. What was going on here? Was it something I said?

"H-Hey kid.. Quit messing around!" I warned him.

His delayed reply was a choked sob. Now I was _really_ worried. What if I was blamed for this?! I frantically looked around the small hospital room for anything that could help, and I just happened to spy a red call button. I nearly launched myself off of the bed and wheeled around to the other side. I pressed the button repeatedly with the palm of my hand until I read hurried footfalls outside of the room. Some seedy looking nurse burst in.

"Wat's goin' on in here?" she shouted in a bad accent, the loud noise making Stuart flinch.

"Somethin's wrong with the kid! I think e's hurt!" I told her, subtly adding in "It wasn't my fault.."

The seedy nurse took a long look at Stuart, then calmly reached in her pocket producing a large pill bottle. She walked slowly to him, and offered him two capsules from the bottle. He stole a look at the pills in her hand, scoffed, and glared at her.

Stuart gestured for her to come a bit closer, and I caught the mischievous yet pained look in his good eye.

The nurse shuffled a bit closer to him, oblivious to the clever trap he had layed out.

"Wat is it, sweetie?" she asked in an overly sweet way, as if she were talking to a retarded child.

The damaged teenager grinned, then quickly swiped the pill bottle out of the nurse's hand. Before she could even lift one of her heavily-plucked eyebrows, he had the cap open, and had popped _at least_ five of the little capsules in him mouth. He swallowed the pills without water, and casually tossed the half-empty bottle back at the flustered nurse with a pained grimace.

The seedy nurse looked as if she was about to slap him, so I took this time to intervene.

"So... What is up wit' da kid?" I asked, casually putting myself between Stuart and the now-fuming nurse.

She took a moment to collect herself.

" 'E had a migraine, is all. It is a chronic condition for 'em, and that's wat t'ose pills are fo'. 'E's not s'ppost to take that many tho'!"

"Mmmmmm...and why not?"

"B'cus 'e has a mild painkiller addiction!" she all but shouted.

Wow. This kid was messed up before I got to him! I can't say I'm not impressed, though. I decided that, yes, I liked this kid. Screw my court-issued babysitting job, I was taking this kid...permenently.

"So... Miss..." I began.

"Paula" she interjected, a slimy huskiness entering her voice.

I tried not to shudder too visibly.

"Right. I am the issued guardian of this here Stu-pot, and I need to know if there is anything else I should know... Like uhh... medical concerns, allergies and whatnot..." I said, trying my best to sound official.

Paula sighed, obviously clearing her mind of the painkiller incident. She nabbed the clipboard from it's hiding place in-between some sheets, and read off of it in a bored tone.

"Mmm... 'e takes prescription Vicodin to relive 'is migraines...uhhmm... Allergic ta' pickles...yadda yadda... If 'e passes out, don' worry.." she listed.

I looked at Stuart, who shrugged. He seemed a bit more relaxed now that he had raided twenty dollars worth of prescription drugs.

"Oh, and since yer takin' care of 'im, yew pretty much get a free pass to the painkiller department of any chemist, although yew get that anyways, don't ya Mr. Niccals... Or do you prefer (her voice got husky again, as if trying to sound attractive) Dr. Niccals...?"

"Errr... yeah.." I said uncomfortably.

I quickly glanced at Stuart, who seemed to be silently laughing his arse off at me. He caught my glare and quickly covered his mouth up with his hands.

"Laugh it up kid." I mumbled.

Now was the time to put my grand pan into action! Grand plan you ask? Yes, grand plan. The plan that had been formulating in my mind since I got here, the very one that would not, no, could not fail. I'm really not just gonna sit here and explain it, so pay attention!

I ignored Paula's blatant attempts to 'woo me' and bent down to Stuart's ear.

"Can yew stand up?" I whispered.

He nodded, looking a bit confused.

"Do ya think yew can run?" I whispered again.

He shrugged.

"Did ya bring anything here with you that yew couldn't ever part with?"

He shook his head, and I got the idea he couldn't even remember any of the items he used to have.

"We're bustin' outt here!" I whispered excitedly.

'What?!' he mouthed, and I grinned _veeeery_ widely.

"Hey Paula! Is that a naked man running down the street? WHAT IS HE DING TO THAT CHILD?!" I shrieked and madly gestured to the window.

"Really?" she asked and rushed over.

"No!" I shouted and put my arms around Stu's midsection, hoisting him over my shoulder.

He weighed less than I thought he did! It seemed he was a lot les prepared than I had taken him for, and repeatedly pounded on my back with his fists, even going as far as kicking my chest a few times before he passed out. I wasn't really surprised he passed out, in fact, I was almost counting on it! I rushed out the room, a hysterical Paula not far behind me, and ran down the hospital hall.

Doctors and patients leapt out of the way of me as I charged down the hall and out the double doors, with a passed-out teenager over my shoulder. I laughed maniacally as I sprinted to my Winnebago (which I had bought soon after I trashed my Vauxhall Astra), which was parked close to the hospital entrance.

I kicked the door open and unceremoniously chucked my kidnap-e on the bed, before plunking myself down on the driver's seat. I laughed at the frantic pounding of a few security guards on the side of the Winne', and sped out of the lot.

Ha ha! Life was good!

"Ey Stuart! That wasn't so bad, was it?" I said amidst my laughter.

With his lack of reply, I remembered he was not actually conscious. Oh well, I had fun! I was super-confedent now that I had pulled off a kidnaping, but then a thought struck me.

What do I do now?

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**REVIEWER VOTE WARNING!**

**Should Murdoc:**

**-Take Stuart straight back to his flat, even though there might be cops waiting for him there.**

_**OR**_

**-Start completely anew and abandon all of his possessions, starting over in a new location (perhaps KONG?)**

**YOU TELL ME! I need at my review count to be at 85 _at least_. Also, who's POV should the next chapter be in?**

**-Azure (I will be signing off like that from now on, as it is my nickname, and I love it!)**


	13. GET IT OUT GET IT OUUUUUTTTT!

**I'm so sorry! I just looked at the update dates on all of my stories, and realized that this chapter is seriously overdue! Pleasy-please forgive me! To apologize, I made this chapter kinda fluffy, because I know you all love that kind of thing. Also a thank you to Guest who helped me out with the zombie movie thing, and the mention of the website Murdoc found KONG at. My grandparents and their friends read this, so I decided to use Rise of the Ogre information instead. Sorry! **

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"Nnnghh... Ge' away... ah'ma shoot ya in tha' 'ead...mmmmzzzzombies..."

What in the hell? I looked behind me in the rear-view, and noted my 'passenger' roll over. His chest heaved and he sighed, grumbling at an unseen enemy. As you an imagine, I was extremely confused. Wasn't he like, mute or something? He rolled over again, this time falling off my bed in a tangle of limbs. He shouted, but his voice cut out the second his eyes opened.

"Yew okay, kid?" I asked, slightly amused.

He stared at me through the mirror for a second, his mismatched eyes wide. He blinked a few times, then nodded slowly. Huh. His eyes are mismatched, just like mine..

Woah, I sound like a woman.

I focused my eyes back to the road and drove on silently. I heard the bed squeak as Stuart sat up, then a grunt and clinking as he tripped over a few beer bottles. I snickered and swerved a bit to avoid a large moose standing in the middle of the road (what the hell?!), then laughed my arse off as I heard Stuart crash to the ground on a pile of dirty clothing and liquor bottles.

"Don't yew go spilling any of me beer!" I joked with an undertone of seriousness.

The teenager just sighed and picked himself up off of the ground. He picked a used pair of woman's err... stockings off of his shirt, only using the very tips of his long fingers. He held the garment like it was radioactive! Geez, what a girl. The bluenette shuddered a bit then carefully walked to the passenger seat of the Winne'. As soon as he sat down though, he jumped up out of the seat and pulled a bent fork out. After silently inspecting the seat, he sat down again.

Seems my Winne' is just full of booby traps, yeah?

The hours crawled by as I drove. We had a few conversations, in which of course I mean that I talked to him, and he just nodded and listened. I didn't mention the sleep-talking incident to him, but I had a feeling it would come up later. Stuart fell asleep a few times, more napping than anything. Every time he did though, I learned a little bit more about whatever was going on inside his dreams.

It seemed the teenager had recurring nightmare, in which he was chased by -get this- zombies. I know, right? To add to this ridiculousness, he seemed to almost enjoy the zombies... That is until his gun jammed or he ran out of bullets. Once that happened, he was promptly eaten. At that point he woke up screaming (until his voice just seemed to cut out), and seemed to forget what he was dreaming about and returned to his dopey sort of happy attitude.

We eventually took a pit stop on the side of the road somewhere near Horley, where Stuart found a caterpillar outside and I used my computer to browse websites concerning boilers. What? The boiler in my flat broke down, and even though I was planning on never returning to the dilapidated establishment, it was always good to know.

Anyway, I was looking at a site about 'dodgy boilers' and an annoying blinking banner ad just popped up out of nowhere. I was about to click it off when the address caught my eye. Gigantic_disused_haunted_studios_in_the_middle_of_ nowhere-dot-com was just so... catchy...

Anyway, the site proclaimed that the owner was looking for some sort of 'winter caretaker' or something, so I figured I could take the job, then when the bloke wanted the place back, lock 'em downstairs and keep the place! Sounds good, yeah? I scrolled down the webpage and clicked on a blinking link that said 'contact details', and a phone number and address popped up.

I dialed it in to my mobile, and it rang a few times before a shaky voice clicked on.

"E-ello?"

"Er.. I'm calling fer the caretaker position of that big haunted studio thing?"

"Heh... R-really? You're kidding, right!? Yes! The position is still open!"

"That's just...great. Uh, so do I 'ave to meetcha' somewhere? Do ya need a recommendation letter or something?"

The voice paused.

"NO! I mean, no.. Just come to the mansion...and it's yours.."

"Huh?" I asked. "I thought this was just a winter caretaker job.."

The man suddenly sounded quite nervous.

"I-I'm sorry, I meant the job is yours.."

"Oh, that's awfully con-" At this moment, Stuart decided to show me the caterpillar he found by dropping it in my hair.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ! GET IT OUT GET IT OUTTT!"

The man on the phone squeaked. I felt thin fingers skitter through my hair then pull something out. I turned around to see a very nervous looking Stuart wringing his hands together, a furry little caterpillar curled up on his arm. His lips moved a mile a minute, and he was most likely attempting to apologize despite his err... speech impairment.

"A-Are you still there, sir?" the man on the phone questioned.

I composed myself.

"Yeah, my err... friend dropped a bug in my hair... little twit."

"Okay, just be here at the mansion tomorrow at 4:15... okay?" he asked shakily.

"Yeah, oka-" the line went dead before I could finish my answer.

Huh, what an odd character. I got the feeling he was looking to get rid of the place. I turned to my young kiddnapp-e, who was leaning out of the door attempting to shake the bug off of his hand. He flicked his wrist a few times, silently urging the caterpillar to let go. It seemed that the insect would not let go, leading to Stuart's obvious discomfort. I laughed a bit, then watched him exit the Winnebago. What was he doing?

I flew to the door and peered out. The blue-headed teenager was kneeling in the grass and scraping the insect off of his hand with a leaf. He finally managed to dislodge the pesky insect, and proceeded to wipe his hand on the ground.

"Stop being such a girl, it's just a caterpillar!"

He whipped his head around and stared at me, the look in his face seemed almost as if he was reminding me of my little freak out with the bug in my hair.

"Hey, you would do the same thing if it was in yer hair, too!"

He shook his head with a huge grin. Stupid kid, with his stupid straight teeth..

"Get back in the car, ye twit. We have to make Essex by four tomorrow."

He cocked his head, as if asking 'why?'.

"As much as I know you just lo~ove my Winnebago, I'm gonna find us a place to crash."

Stuart smiled and nodded, then bounded back to the Winne'. I crushed up against the side of the door, so as not to bump into him, but the stupid twit was somehow skinny enough to make it through the door without touching it or me at all. He plopped himself back into the passenger seat and searched around for a seatbelt.

"There isn't one, mate." I told the teenager, who promptly shrugged.

The passenger seat was rather high up off of the interior floor, which gave Stuart an open invitation to swing his legs a bit, adding to the overall image of childishness he was emulating. I walked over to the driver's seat and sat down. I glanced at the blue-haired teenager sitting beside me and wondered why he was so happy. Such a strange kid! He just woke up in a hospital to be harassed by people he couldn't remember were his parents, scrutinized by a nurse, then scared half to death by me, only to be kidnapped by me, then dragged out into the middle of no where by -guess who?- me.

My face shifted into the frown I was so comfortable with. The scowl that almost was like a permanent mask to me, one I only took off when sleeping or in the shower. Err.. I am not that good at metaphors, so just bear with me here. My passenger noticed the scowl, and stopped most of his good-natured fidgeting, all of the fizz he had going flat. (Again, metaphors aren't my thing.) I felt a teeny bit bad for putting the twit down, but I quickly shoved that feeling down too.

To Essex we go, I guess.

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**Awwe Mudsy's all depressed. If I get a lot of reviews I will cheer him up, but if I get not very many, he will stay depressed. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

**Anyway, is anybody going to the Vancouver zombie walk in august? I totally am, and I was gonna go as a zombie Gorillaz character, but I don't have the means to go as 2D, and if I went as Noodle, I would just look like a zombie with black hair and striped leggings. So, I'm gonna see if I can buy the contacts anyway and use them to look extra-creepy. If any of you guys are going, PM me!**

**Oh yeah, and the review count needs to be at 95, okay? C'mon you guys, by the time this fic is finished, I want it to be the highest reviewed Gorillaz fic! Can't I have dreams? So if you read this, please review! Even if you don't have an account you can review! Come on..**

**Please?**


	14. The Great Burger Race

**The only disc****laimer this story will have: I do not own the Gorillaz, they belong to Jamie Hewelett and Damon Albarn and the Zombie Flesh Eaters team. I do however, own the unique situations and and OC's that are in or will be in this story. **

**So sorry for the slow update, I re-wrote this chapter three times from three different POV's and this is the best one. Love you guys for being such awesome readers, it makes me so happy that people actually like something I have done. **

**HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!**

**Enjoy a little glimpse into 2D's odd little mind! :D**

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When Murdoc told me we were taking a road-trip, my first thought was '_I wonder if there are monkeys there?'_ Then I started thinking about Curious George, then the man in the yellow hat, then yellow hats, then just hats. I also wondered if Murdoc owned any hats, then I realized that Murdoc had just told me something. We were doing something... something that involved driving.. on the road. What was it? I looked at Murdoc for some sort of reminder, but his scary face was on so I looked away.

Murdoc's scary face wasn't all that scary, it was just... intimidating. It made me not want to bother him and it also made me feel bad for being such a burden to him. I did know something good about Murdoc's scary face though! I knew that it was just a face, like an interchangeable idea. He only wore that face so I wouldn't know what he was thinking, and it worked. I never knew what he was thinking, but I _did_ know he was thinking something, something secretive._  
_

Road-trip! That's what we were doing! A road-trip to Essex! I mentally cursed my scribble-y mind for being so forgetful. It's weird being forgetful the way I am. I mean, I can't even remember what my voice sounds like! I bet it was super-masculine or something. I kind of hoped it would sound something like Murdoc's, his voice was really deep and gives him mind-control over women. Darn it! I lost my train of thought again. Ohh... trains.. choo choo...

Focus Stuart!

I had never been to Essex before, or at least I don't remember being there. I do remember someone telling me once that it was nice and sunny there, except for a really gloomy hill where a bunch of hippies and occultists and some guy that drank too much used to live. Who told me that..? Oh well, I don't really care. My happy mood returned again and I started swinging my feet back and forth again. Hmmm... I wonder if I can whistle still?

"Ffff... fffff..."

Nope, apparently not. My attempt at whistling sounded like a fart and made my lips all tingly. Murdoc raised an eyebrow at my efforts so I stuck my tongue out at him. He didn't look like he knew how to react to that, so I smiled and looked at my fingers. They were so long and kind of reminded me of a movie I had watched. I waggled my pointer finger in front of my face and mouthed _'ET go home..'_ That's the only part of ET I had seen, but it was still kind of funny. I silently laughed as my thoughts once again drifted.

"Are we there yet?" I asked Murdoc.

Okay, so I didn't actually ask him anything, you got me. I really just stared at the green-skinned man like the dullard I apparently was. After a minute or so Murdoc looked a bit uncomfortable.

"Quit staring, yer freaking me out!"

The first solution that popped into my doodley mind was to immediately look in the opposite direction, which I did. The action made my neck hurt a bit and my head spin, but for some reason it was more important to not stare at Murdoc than to avoid getting a mild headache. Murdoc sighed and mumbled something about the sweetness of Satan then addressed me.

"Wot is it? Yew hungry or something?" He asked.

I looked at him again and was about to shake my head when my stomach rumbled loudly. It sounded like a lion was eating a boulder! Murdoc snickered.

"I guess so then. Yew haven't eaten since the hospital, have you?" He asked, the smirk still lingering on his face.

I shook my head vigorously and whipped myself in the eye with a piece of my hair. Owww...

"Well, we're in Chelmsford 'roight now, so we'll stop for food when we get ta' KONG. Can ye' wait twenty minutes?" He asked.

I smiled and nodded, more hair whipping me in the eye. Murdoc sniggered at my 'antics' and focused his eyes back on the road. His driving was very erratic, but I enjoyed the feeling of being on a roller-coaster that it gave me. _'It's a wonder he hasn't driven through a store or hit anyone yet.'_ I thought.

We drove for a while and I passed the time by playing Pong on Murdoc's phone. It turned out that I was really good at Pong, so I must have played it for almost half an hour before Murdoc pulled up to a burger restaurant. He snatched the phone out of my hands when I refused to acknowledge him and (much to my dismay) deleted my high-score. I pouted and crossed my arms.

"Oh stop being a twit. I'm gonna head in and nab us some food, what do ye' want?" Murdoc asked.

I stared at him. How was I supposed to tell him what I wanted when I couldn't talk? After an intense minute of staring, the older man finally clued in.

"Oh, I should 'prolly give ye' a paper to write on then.." He mumbled, the proceeded to search around the messy Winnebago for a pen and paper.

He found a pen under the seat and handed me a pile of napkins to use as paper. Living like kings my friend, living like kings.

_'a kid burger with no pickles and extra hot sawse please. sererosly no pickles im alergic.'_ I wrote.

Murdoc squinted at my writing for a minute before nodding and reading it back to me.

"Yew want a kids burger with no pickles an' extra hot sauce? Yer allergic ta' pickles?"

I nodded.

"Hmm.. 'roightey right then. Don't unlock the doors or let anyone in, clear?" Murdoc commanded.

I nodded. He opened the door and jumped out with a grunt before slamming the door and locking the 'Bago with a blipper-majigey. I hopped into the drivers seat and watched Murdoc through the window. He jogged up to the restaurant then disappeared inside. I waited for a few minutes, desperately wishing the green-skinned man hadn't taken his phone with him. Minutes later, a wet and very annoyed-looking Murdoc had unlocked he door and shoved a wrapped-up burger in my hands.

_'What happened?'_ I wanted to ask. I settled with looking at the older man curiously and unwrapping the burger clumsily. He seemed to understand my expression and began telling me in between bites of his chicken burger.

"Well, I was hitting on some bird in the line up, the her _girlfriend_ popped out of nowhere and threw her drink at me! So I grabbed our food and snatched her chips, enjoy!" He said, offering me a box of chips.

I smiled and pulled a few out to stick on my burger. Murdoc had done the same and upon noticing this, he snickered.

"Cheers, mate!" He said, holding out his burger.

I stared at him, confused for a moment before lifting my burger into the air and lightly tapping it on his (I made sure his pickles didn't touch my burger). Murdoc nodded in approval and chowed down on his burger. I watched with mild interest as he pulled a second one out of the bag.

"Yew up for a race?" He asked, gesturing to the nibbled-on burger in my hands.

I smiled and nodded. I liked this Murdoc, he was fun!

"Kay.. One... Two... Three... GO!" He shouted.

I tried to cram as much of my burger in my mouth as possible without choking and Murdoc ripped at his burger with his chainsaw teeth. Bits of meat and tomatoes and pickles and cheese flew everywhere as we raced to finish. As I was one bite away from winning I noticed Murdoc wrap his tongue (which was way to long to be normal) around his burger and snatch it into his mouth like a chameleon. I made a face, but I was a bit curious about this magic tongue Murdoc seemed to posses.

My burger forgotten, I leaned forward in my seat and waited until Murdoc finished,

"Aha I won! Wait, yew aren't even eating anymore!"

I shrugged and Murdoc gave me an annoyed look, but dropped the subject. I popped the remainder of my burger and a few chips in my mouth before tapping the man's shoulder to get his attention.

"Eh? What?" He asked.

I stuck my tongue out and pointed to it, then pointed to him.

"Tongue? Oh, my tongue! It's longer than Gene Simmons' tongue, I swear!"

To prove his point, Murdoc stuck the muscle out of his mouth and wiggled it around. It was really long, and disturbed me to no end. I mean, how hasn't ever choked on it? A look must have crept onto my face, because Murdoc laughed and stuck his key into the ignition of the Winnebago. It started up with a rumble and a questionable-sounding bang, and we were on our way.

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**Kay I updated! So next chapter Mudsy will have a bit of car troubles, and I will let you guys decide what kind!**

**- A tire (or all of them) will pop.**

**- They will run out of petrol (gasoline) and have to walk to get some or steal some or something.**

**- Small-scale car accident.**

**- The engine malfunctions and 2D and Murdoc have to flag down someone to help them fix it (creepy man with a whale tattoo?)**

**YOU DECIDE! And for the record, this is NOT a choose-your-adventure story, and voting isn't necessary. Because for some stupid reason that's against the rules. No No! Don't let the reader have a say! That would be _so_ terrible! Anyway, that was just a disclaimer so I don't get in trouble.**

**Review or perish (or not!)**


	15. Randy the Rapist

**So At the time of writing this chapter, the votes are tied for the small scale accident and the engine malfunction, so I guess we're doing a bit of both! Enjoy! I BROKE 100 REVIEWS WOOT WOOOOT! So this is an extra-long chapter! Thank you all!**

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Stuart became bored with sitting in the shredded passenger seat and playing with the greasy wrapper of his burger, so he stood up and started rummaging through the Winnebago in search of interesting items. He suspected that Murdoc would have an endless supply of cool stuff, and although all his search initially turned up was women's clothing (in a _very_ wide range of sizes) and empty alcohol containers, he kept looking. Murdoc watched him warily through the rearveiw mirror. He had to stop every so often to tell Stu to not touch a ritual knife of put down a satanic book, and nearly hit a crossing guard when the teen picked up El Diablo.

That was a no-touch item.

Eventually the lanky teenager pulled a cheap plastic keyboard out from under the Satanist's stained bed. He felt a twinge of familiarity run through him and wondered, '_Have I seen this before?'_ Stuart wracked his brain for an answer, and came up empty-handed (aside from the mild headache that amount of thinking caused.) The teen absently rubbed the bridge of his nose to disperse the feeling.

Eventually the picture faded and was replaced with Murdoc's annoyed voice.

"OY! Faceache! Dullard!" Murdoc had resorted to insults in an attempt to catch Stu's attention. After a moment, the silent teen shook his head and stared at Murdoc with a hazy expression. Murdoc stared back for a moment before focusing his attention back to the road.

Stuart at the keyboard and traced a thin finger along it's purple accents. Little did he know, Murdoc had bought the keyboard the night before the crash so he didn't look suspicious when he poked around the shop for exits and security cameras.

Stuart jabbed the 'ON' button with his index finger and smiled slightly when a small red light flickered on. The dark bruising around his eyes and the almost sickly-looking paleness that hung around his features brightened instantly. He poked at a few of the thin plastic keys, not caring at the horribly cheap sound they made. Murdoc stifled a groan.

According to the nob who owned the shop he ram-raided, Stuart was quite skilled at playing the keyboard. He had assumed that the praise was just an attempt to make him feel bad about nearly killing the kid. Moments later, a complex string of notes that Murdoc couldn't place flowed through the Winnebago. For a moment Murdoc thought he had turned the radio on, but soon remembered that the Winnebago's radio only played static. He was surprised that Stuart could make such a cheap instrument produce something so beautiful.

Stuart tackled the difficult melody with no effort and his smile grew. He had no idea he could play they keyboard! It was a very welcome surprise to both him and Murdoc. The teen wondered briefly where the melody had come from, as he did not recognize it. It just seemed to be an unknown thing purely from the blue-haired teenager's mind. Stuart poked a few more keys awkwardly.

He found it a bit odd that he couldn't recall the names of any bands, but somehow recall the music. Murdoc had no idea of this confusion, and if such a thing were possible, money signs would have popped up in his eyes. _'This could be the start of something, the devil _did_ promise me a band..' _The bassist thought.

The pianist poked at the off-white keys, eager to play something else. To Stuart, music made him feel like he was in a whole other world filled with butterscotch and zombies and pong. HE had also noticed the ghost of a smile that had crept onto Murdoc's green visage. Stuart felt that if he do _anything_ at all to make Murdoc happy, he was making himself less of a burden to the older man. As he played out another tune (one that Murdoc recognized as 'Chemical World') the small smile on his face turned to one of loopy happiness.

Murdoc was the ultimate master of keeping his emotions hidden, but the teenager sitting obliviously in his wagon was making a smile want to creep on to his face. The bassist managed to suppress it (or so he thought). Murdoc watched the teen through the rear-view and occasionally checked the road. It was a nice day on an empty road, so his worries were at a minimum.

Stuart, despite being in a bit of a fog, caught a sharp movement out of the corner of his good eye. Having the attention-span of a parakeet, the teen immediately stopped poking at the keys and focused his gaze to the scene outside. Murdoc watched his eyes fractionally grow wider, and soon became confused when Stu started gesturing madly at the window and shouting silent warnings.

"What izzit ki-" Murdoc barely managed to ask before he turned his head to the road.

A large semi-truck with body paint as red as the devil's arse was swerving erratically on the road, it's shiny rims and bonnet glinting ominously in the midday sun. Murdoc couldn't even _see_ the driver of the oncoming vehicle. The next second, the drivers side door flew open and hit the metal cab, nearly fell of its hinges. The heavy door whacked harshly against it and bounced a few times, breaking the glass in the window frame. Murdoc watched with morbid curiosity as the driver appeared at the door and pushed his head and shoulders out, ignoring the sparkling shower of glass raining down in his head. He groped blindly at the shattered window frame (cutting his hand to bits in the process) and managed to use the extra leverage to stand up for a moment before swaying dangerously and falling from the truck.

Murdoc's jaw dropped as the driver (who he determined must be a man or a _very_ ugly women) barely missed the road and landed in a patch of blackberry bushes, rolling to a stop when their clothes caught on the sharp thorns. The large truck seemed unhindered by things such as thorns or stop signs, effortlessly mowing both over as it barreled out of control at the Winnebago.

Stuart stared wide eyed at the scene playing out in front of him, his once black eye white and his normal pupil dilated to a pinprick. He jumped up off the bed, the keyboard once resting on his knees sent clattering to the ground. _'MURDOC!'_ he mentally shouted as he watched the green-skinned man stare at the oncoming vehicle. _'Murdoc why are you just staring at it?! MOVE!' _The teen ran to Murdoc's seat and tapped on his shoulder a few times before shaking him rapidly. Murdoc just stared unblinkingly at the incoming vehicle, face pale and eyes wide. Stuart had never seen the man look so scared (in fact, he had_ never_ seen him look scared), and that frightened him.

_'I have to do this! No! I can't! I''ll die! No I won't! Okay yes I will, nononono! AHH!'_

In among the jumble of panicked commands Stu's brain shot at him, he managed to pick one and g with it, even if it meant risking his life. In a moment of extreme braveness (or brain-damage related stupidity), Stuart pried Murdoc's shaking hands off of the wheel and cranked it to the right as far as his small muscles would allow. The Winnebago swerved dangerously and Stuart managed to yank Murdoc out of his stupor in time for the bassist to leap from the drivers seat and pull the teen to the floor. Moments later...

**CRAASH!**

Like a raging bull, the semi had hit the wagon, but thanks to Stu's ballsy actions only nicked the side. The truck swerved harmlessly into a corn field from there, but the Winnebago was not so lucky. The doomed vehicle skidded across the pavement (seeing as no one was steering it) and rocked dangerously before the thin tires lost their already loose grip on the road. **CRASH!** The Bago' rolled onto its side, **SMASH!** Now it was on it's roof. **BANG!** The wagon rolled to over again and **CRRCHKK!** It landed back on its wheels with a tilt and a groan. Seconds later, a jet of steam hissed out of the slightly dented hood.

Stuart and Murdoc layed sprawled out on the carpeted interior of the wagon, the bassist's arms clinging loosely to the teenager crumpled beside him. Murdoc groaned and sat up.

"Ughh.. Stu.. nice work t'ere.."

Stuart remained quiet and still.

"F-faceace?" Murdoc said, his voice going a bit higher.

The bassist prodded the unresponsive pianist with his finger and sighed in relief when a quiet groan managed to escape his lips. Stuart pushed himself up off the stained carpet with shaking arms and coughed lightly. He stared at Murdoc for a moment before breaking out with a bright smile, now sporting a missing front tooth (he hadn't noticed yet). The pianist hugged the unsuspecting bassist for a moment before letting go to inspect the dark bruise that had started to form on the thin bone of his right shoulder.

_'Oh god we're okay! We're alive! We survived!'_ Stuart chanted in his head, rubbing the mark.

Murdoc was relieved. He stood up stiffly and offered his hand to the bluenette, who took it and was hoisted to his feet. Murdoc examined the blue-haired teen, who seemed to bruise like a peach. Angry looking dark marks had formed on the teen's arms and legs, and an especially painful looking one was darkening on his jaw, not to mention the newly-missing tooth. Stu gave a similar assessment to Murdoc, but there was only a small bruise on Murdoc's elbow and a scrape on his cheek to be found. After a pregnant pause, Murdoc spoke up.

"We should 'prolly asses t'e damage, yeah?"

Stu nodded and Murdoc led the way out of the battered wagon. Once outside, the musicians were relieved to find that only the outside of the Winnebago was damaged, and most of this damage being dings and paint scratches. Murdoc chalked the surprisingly small amount of damage up to stupid luck, and Stu was too busy looking pitifully at a flower that was stuck in the broken headlight cover to form an opinion.

As Murdoc turned his attention to Stuart's bruises and as the teen tried to pull the flower without further damaging it, one thought was on their minds.

_'Poor thing..'_

* * *

Twenty minutes. It had been twenty minutes since a semi truck had rammed the Winnebago, and still no help had arrived. Murdoc's crappy little flip-phone had been damaged in the tumbling around. When he had found the damaged electronic, he discovered that it flipped open the _wrong way_ and that a large, seeping crack had formed down the middle of the small screen. The bassist had no way of calling for assistance. To battle the quickly building boredom he poked at the light scrape on his cheek until Stuart looked at him with a mildly creeped-out expression.

"What?" Murdoc asked irritably, raising his arm as if about to hit the teen.

Stuart flinched and turned away to pick more vegetation out of the Winnebago's dents. A car flew by and Murdoc frantically waved his arms to catch it's attention. The car did not slow at all, but simply honked as if to say _'Congrats, you have muscle control in your arms!'_ Murdoc flipped off the slowly fading vehicle.

"Arsehole..." he muttered.

* * *

Murdoc must have flailed at no less than twenty cars before he finally got some attention. A rusty old Citroen Visa with missing rims passed him, then abruptly stopped with a horrid screech of old tires and reversed back to the bassist, sending dust and old condom wrappers flying through the wind. The car stopped a few feet away from Murdoc, and the man inside rolled down the window eagerly.

The man inside the car was overly skinny (though somehow not as much as the blue-haired vocalist) and had wide set jaw. His sunken eyes were piercing and blue, and the sloppily-trimmed facial hair he sported gave him and all over mangy appearance. His dull ginger hair was stringy and thin, giving him the appearance of circus clown on crack. Murdoc could see bits of his sun-baked scalp through his hair, and unconsciously swept a hand reassuringly through his own raven mop. Yep, still there.

"Well HI HI HI there lad!" he said to Murdoc in a highish raspy voice. "What seems ta' be ta' Daily Double*?"

Stuart poked his head out from the dirty side of the Winnebago at a new voice, and was not pleased at what he saw. The person that had appeared to help was...well..._ creepy_. Stu could only see the side of his face as he talked to Murdoc, and was instantly on high-alert. When the man eventually scuttled out of his car, Stuart immediately noticed the most horrid tattoo he had ever seen, smack dab right on his exposed arm.

A whale tattoo.

He would have shrieked in horror if he was able to. The now-frightened teen stumbled backwards from the man a bit and managed to kick over a few rocks in his sloppy gait. Murdoc twitched before turning around and looking at the teen like he had forgotten he was there. After regaining his composure, he beckoned the teen over with a wave of his arm.

"And this-here faceache is Stu. He's me' er... flatmate.."

"He looks a bit ...young... to be a flatmate, don't he?" The man asked, sounding _far_ too interested to be normal.

Stuart shuddered at his voice. Yes, this man might have been the scariest person he had ever seen. The teen scuttled over to Murdoc and hid behind him, not caring how immature he looked.

"I meant to say he is me' flatmate's son. I was just taking him over to his mum's house in Sussex when a semi clipped the wagon and made it flip out of control!" Murdoc told the man dramatically, leaving out the part where Stuart saved their arses.

"He's got neat eyes! Well aren't you a cute one!" the man's voice dripped, completely ignoring Murdoc's hysteria and focusing intently on Stuart.

Stuart glanced at the whale tattoo warily before giving the man a quick wave.

"AND," Murdoc interrupted, "T'e engine is malfunctioning. Do yew know anyt'ing about engines mate? 'Sure as hell I don't."

The man peeled his beady eyes from Stuart for a moment to stare at the man in front of him.

"Well sure sure sure! 'Been a mechanic for thirty years! I can help ya laddie, no issues! I'm Randy by the way."

Randy stared at Stu again for a moment longer that necessary before letting Murdoc lead him to the front end of the wagon. He began working on the engine, and at one point called Stu over so he could use his 'perfect little hands' to 'yank the tube right out that hole'. Despite being intensely freaked out, Stuart grabbed around in the sharp recesses of the engine and pulled out a small tube that had popped off some sort of valve.

At this point, Murdoc had become a bit uncomfortable with Randy's borderline uncomfortable fascination with the bluenette. Once the engine had been fixed (which took _much_ longer than it should have, most likely because of the frequent glances in Stuart's direction), Murdoc was quick to usher Randy back to his car. After a prolonged goodbye, in which Randy insisted on giving Stuart a long hug.

* * *

Twenty minutes out on the highway, the Winnebago passed a 'crimestoppers' billboard advertizing a serial rapist who went by the name of 'Randy the Rapist'. Beside the name was some more information on the rapist, and a large picture of a thin man with stringey orange hair and peircing blue eyes.

"We have got to be the luckiest unlucky people in the world, Stu." Murdoc said vacantly.

Stu nodded in agreement, a thin frown set on his face.

* * *

***Cockney rhyming slang for 'trouble'.**


	16. First Words are Always Interesting

**So sorry for the random disappearance, I didn't die or anything. I just... I just couldn't get myself to write, ya know? Sorry. **

**And could you guys help me out here? I think something's up with this chapter, it seems weird to me. If you can think of something, do tell me please! **

**Without further adieu, here is chapter 16!**

* * *

After nearly forty minutes of driving, we managed to get to Sussex. The entire region was flat as a pancake's arse, aside from this one peculiar-looking hilltop that jutted into the sky. It was shaped like a cavity-ridden tooth, and from what I could see had some pretty nasty looking clouds circling it. It matched the description of KONG from that old nutshell's web ad, and seemed to be in the same area. So this is where we were gonna live, eh?

I stomped my boot-clad foot on the gas pedal and smirked as my Winne' lurched forward. We barreled down the street and came to a red light. Three of four dinky little cars were stopped at the intersection, waiting for the oncoming traffic to head out. HA! Losers! The second I saw a small break in the stream of vehicles I stomped on the gas and sped through the line of cars. I heard Stu squeak beside me when a shiny little Civic had to jam on its breaks to avoid hitting us.

"What? Scared of a little car like that?" I asked mockingly, "Even if that thing hit us, it wouldn't leave more then a dint!"

Stu twiddled his fingers.

"Fff. Such a girl." I said, smirking at his now slightly angry expression.

He sank further into his seat and pouted at me, sticking his lip out in a comical way. Was he attempting to gain some sort of sympathy? Well, he wouldn't get it from me!

"Keep yer panties on, ya prat."

A loud beep sounded from behind me. I looked through the rear-view mirror and saw that stupid little Civic attempting to intimidate me. The angry driver was shouting incoherently and waving his arms around. I snickered at his attempts and took one of my hands off the steering wheel. I extended said hand out the window and raised my middle finger. Well, that got the other guy even madder. He made a gesture for me to pull over, and I nearly lost it laughing.

"AHahHAHAhhaa... Hey.. Hey Stu.. This guy (aahahahHAhah), this guy wants to fight me! AHahahaHAhaha!" I said to my passenger.

The teenager looked at me skeptically for a moment (it's beyond me why) before smiling and silently joining in my laughter. I pulled the Winnebago onto the shoulder of the road turned the ignition off. The man behind me did the same, and I watched him get out of his car. In another fit of sniggers, I banged my fist onto the glovebox a few times. Luckily for me it didn't fall of or something, my stuff has a nasty habit of doing that..

I kicked open the patterned door and hopped out of the Winnebago.

"Stay here and don't touch my bass." I commanded Stu, not bothering to turn around to see if he heard me or not.

I sauntered over to the other driver, making sure to roll my hips in a devil-may-care sort of way. The other driver approached me with a confident air. He must have been around nineteen or twenty, but had the clothing style of a sewer rat. His oversized hoodie and baggy track pants paired with a straight-brim cap practically _screamed_ douchebag. He had a chin shaped like a ham and beady little brown eyes.

A sneer drifted across my face and I curled my hands into fists. 's eyes were slipping up and down my form, sizing me up just as I had done to him. His confident air seemed to waver slightly, but he kept that stupid look on his face. You have _no_ idea how much I wanted to punch that look off of his ugly little zit-infested face.

"Loik what'cha see?" I growled.

"Keh, I'm not sure what te' hell you t'ink you are, but you need ta' crawl back ta' your decapitated welfare shack before I kick your ass!"

Ouch. That one struck a bit of a chord and brought back memories of my place back in Stoke-on-Trent. My dad beating me, my brother beating me...

"Yew little shit.." I grumbled, and I was on him before he could even blink.

With my first punch, I had that punk on the ground. I sat on his chest and pinned his arms down with my feet, making sure to grind my Cuban heels hard into his wrists. I raised my fist back and punched him in the mouth.

Then again.

And again.

"SHUT"

Punch.

"UP"

Punch.

"YEW DON'T"

Punch and a crack, most likely from his nose.

"KNOW ANYTHING"

Punch. Ooh... lotsa blood..

"ABOUT ME!"

I punched him again, hitting his cheekbone. More of my punches flew, and I was seeing red. I didn't care that he was out cold by now, didn't care that his face would no longer look normal, didn't care that my knuckles were bruised and bleeding.

"AAARGHH!" I shouted and drove mt fist into his face again.

I felt a soft touch on my shoulder and whirled around, striking the offender without much thought. I turned to face whoever was stupid enough to interrupt me, and nearly choked on my tongue.

It was Stu..

He stared back at me with tears in his eyes and held both his hands to his cheek. He sniffled a little before standing up and approaching me again. Removing one hand from his cheek, he looked down at me (I was crouched on the grass in front of the kid I beat up) and patted my shoulder in what I assume was supposed to be in a calming manner. Despite having been punched in the face, he smiled at me and tugged my arm up.

I stood shakily and turned away from the bluenette. Damn kid had to get in the way... so stupid. I mean, what kind of dullard gets in the middle of a fist fight? Well, this one I guess.. I glared down at the other driver (I had never gotten his name) with disdain. Bending over, I rooted around in his front pocket and snatched his leather wallet, then deposited it into my own pocket. Take that, doucheknuckle..

I contemplated kicking him again but a light pull on my sleeve changed my mind. Stu seemed determined to be a bother, as he was making a serious effort to drag me back to the Winnebago. I sighed and walked back to the dented vehicle, leaving Stu to clamber in after me. He hopped into his seat with a huff of effort, and I climbed into mine. We closed our doors (I slammed mine) and I turned the key to the ignition.

The Winnebago grumbled to life with a pop and a bang. I grabbed the wheel and jerked it to the right, flooring the gas pedal and steering us back onto the road. We barreled down the asphalt at a speed that was undoubtedly over the speed limit, inspiring Stu to dig his nails into the armrests of the wagon. I frowned slightly when I saw the ugly bruise darkening his cheek. Stupid kid, what was he thinking? I decided to voice my thoughts.

"What in Satan's name were yew thinking getting in the mi'ttle of that foight? I bloody well punched yew!" I snarled.

Stuart stared at me then sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Answer me yew little faceache, I know yew can talk!" I shouted.

The faceache in question flinched at my tone, but once he processed what I had said, he looked at me with an incredibly confused expression on that stupid little face of his.

"Yeah, that's roight! I heard yew talking!"

He mouthed a dramatic 'What?'

He seemed genuinely confused, which really threw me for a loop. What the bloody hell was going on here? I swerved to avoid hitting a cat running across the road.

"When.. when yew wer' sleeping... yew wer' yelling at them zombies and whatnot!"

More confused silence from the faceache. A thought popped into my mind.

What if he couldn't talk because of a mental barrier of some sort? I knew it had something to do with his catatonia, but what exactly was keeping him catatonic? I contemplated asking him, but he seemed to have the intelligence of a frog. Hmmph, like he would know anything.

"Look, nevermind. I don' really know why yew thought it was a good idea to go breakin' up a fistfoight with yer face, or why the hell yew can't talk. We'll figure it out later, yeah?"

He nodded.

I focused my attention back to the road. The molar-like hill was looming up ahead, only a turnoff and a long stretch of pavement separated us from KONG. Keeping an eye on the road, I popped open the glovebox and rooted around a bit. Stuart seemed to notice and drew a question mark in the air with his finger.

"'M Looking fer some shades.. If yew go in with yer eyes looking like that, the owner of the place will have a fit.. don' want that.."

Stu batted my hand away in favor of looking for them himself. After a moment of two of rummaging around, he pulled out a large pair of black aviators. He held them out to me and raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah, those ones."

He nodded and slipped them on. Seeing as I stole them from a convenience store, they were a bit large for the Stuart's face and slipped down far enough that the bridge of the shades sat on the end of his nose. I snickered at the sight. He looked ridiculous, but it was good enough. I reached over and poked the side of the frame, sliding the shades back onto his face a bit. Stuart wriggled his nose and blew a stray hair out of his face. I snorted at him and pulled down the long stretch of road leading to KONG. I parked the wagon in front of some of the rustiest gates I had ever seen, and turned the ignition off.

Hopping out of the wagon, I walked around to Stu's side and ushered him out. I locked the wagon and meandered over to the gates. They were rusted to all hell, the bent spires reaching up and curling off into the sky. The word 'KONG' was set on them as well, although it looked as if it was about to fall of at any time. The gates were held closed by and old chain and lock, and when I went up to the gate to check them, they fell apart and landed in a pile on the muddy ground.

"Well, we're in.." I mumbled to Stu, who was now right beside me,

I pushed trough the gates and ground my teeth together at the sharp screeching sound they made. There was a long pathway leading up to KONG, and surrounding it was many trees, some dead, some barely alive. Among the trees lied... uhh... tombstones? There had to have been hundreds of them among the trees! I nearly jumped out of my skin when something latched onto me, but to my relief it was only Stuart.

"Sweet Satan, are yew trying to give me a heart attack?!" I screeched.

Stu ignored my question and pointed excitedly at something in the distance. I rolled my eyes, but looked anyway. There was something there, something moving in among the tombstones..

That something moaned.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" I shouted, turning to Stuart.

The blue-haired teenager smiled excitedly and bounced on the balls of his feet like a child at the door of a candy shop.

"Z..zoh... Z-zomb-b-b.. Zom-bies!" He managed to stutter.

WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE!?

"Yew... yew just said something! Sweet Satan yew just talked! Wait.. That's a zombie..?"

Stuart nodded and repeated himself. "Zombie."

"Huh.. That's pretty schweet, yeah?" I said.

If there was just one, then there would be no problems! Stuart tugged on my sleeve again and pointed in a different direction.

"Zombies!"

Then another direction.

"Zombie!"

And another.

I whirled around to look at the locations in which Stu had pointed. There was indeed multiple living corpses stalking around, some of the missing limbs of large portions of their heads. More and more of the undead little buggers appeared out of the mist, and I began to feel a tad nervous.

"Err... Stu, we should prolly head to KONG and meet with the-"

Stu was not beside me.

No no, he was standing right in front of one of the decaying dead, staring at it with awe and fascination. The zombie's maw dripped with saliva and some other unnamed fluids and it stared hungrily at the scrawny teenager in front of it.

"What in Satan's name are you _doing_?!" I shouted at the bluenette.

He looked at me and shrugged, before sauntering back to my side. The zombie he had been looking at just stood there for a moment before one of it's legs gave out and it tumbled to the ground with a sickening snap.

Gross.

"If yew ever _ever_ do that again, I swear to Satan I will beat yew over the 'ead with my bass!" I yelled.

Stu nodded and looked at his feet. What a child. I cuffed him on the back of the head and began the trek up to KONG. I speed-walked up the muddy hill with long strides. Each step I took made a squelching sound as the thick heels of my boots sank into the soft mud of the trail. I glanced back at Stuart to see if he was having the same problem (and to make sure he hadn't wandered off to stare at a bloody zombie), but it seemed as if he was walking on air. His shoes barely left impressions in the mud!

I snorted and hurried my pace.

"Hurry uuuuup!" I said over my shoulder at Stu, who likely gave me a look through the shades.

We approached the mansion that was KONG and I let out a low whistle. Man, this place was HUGE! I bet you could make as much noise as you wanted here! I raised my fist to rap on the door, but there was still blood stained on my hands from that stupid kid. From what I heard on the phone, the guy who owned KONG seemed a might skiddish, and seeing someone with bloody knuckles rap on your door might be a tad unnerving.

"Hey, Faceache. Knock on that door, will ya?"

Stuart opened his mouth as if to protest, but quickly snapped it shut and stepped up to the door. Raising a shaking fist, the blue haired teenager quickly rapped on the door. His job done, he assumed his position hiding behind me.

"Such a girl." I muttered.

After a moment I could hear hurried footsteps from somewhere inside the large building approaching the door. A few odd clicks were heard, and the door opened a crack.

"E-ello?" Came a quiet murmur.

"Er.. I'm Murdoc Niccals, we spoke on the phone?"

"O-oh, right! H-hahah.. you a'ually came.. Wow. A-alrigh' t'en.." The man said, and the heavy door was pushed open.

"C-come in then, before _they_ get'chya.." He warned and ushered us in.

I glanced back at Stu momentarily before stepping inside and pulling him in with me. The man who owned the mansion quickly shut the door and bolted it. He look timid and his grey eyes had large bags underneath them. He was balding, which was weird considering he looked to be in his early forties. Stress related perhaps? He was wringing his hands together nervously.

"So... nice place.." I said casually.

"Y-yeah.. Er.. My name is Larry.. Larry Fife... I own t'is place..."

"Roight. Well, as yew know, I'm Murdoc Niccals and this here is Stuart. I called 'bout that winter caretaker job yew were offering online, that's still available, yeah?"

"Y-yeah, h-here's t'e keys! Take 'em!" Larry said, and practically threw the keys at me.

"Err.. Thanks? When Exactly are yew comin' back-"

"AHAHAHA IT'S YOUR PROBLEM NOW YOU STUPID GIT! AHAHahAHAHAhaHAH!" Larry shouted, running for the door.

He yanked the bolt loose and ripped the door open. I watched with a raised eyebrow as he bolted down the hill towards the front gates. Unfortunately for him, and whole mess of zombies were waiting for him at the gate. Lets just say... he didn't make it past the gates in one piece.

"Wot... wot the hell.." I muttered.

Stu shrugged and pulled the shades off of his nose. He handed them back to me and I pocketed them.

"Well then Stuey, we got ourselves a mansion! No rent! No neighbors! Perfect, roight?"

Stuart nodded happily.

"Zombies.." He said.

Oh right.

"Well, it's not loik there's any zombies inside here!" I said.

Not seconds later, a loud moan echoed through the halls of KONG.

Stuart pointed frantically at a point behind me.

"ZOMBIE ZOMBIE ZOMBIE ZOMBIE!"

I felt something cold and wet drip onto my shoulder...

Crap.

* * *

**Somewhat of a cliffhanger, yeah? I know I know, Murdoc's being weird. Just go with it for now, explanations come later. And yes, Stu can sort of talk now. 'Zombie' is one helluva first word, dont'cha think? Anyway, thanks for tolerating me and my crappy updates. :D**

**-Azure**


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